I picked up Gumbo and we all made a run for it out of the house.
"You can come over," Jenny said as we ran for our cars.
I wasn't sure why we were still running at that point, but it was probably fear that the spirit would decide he didn't like the bottle and come after us. After all, it was just a perfume oil bottle. There was no spell on it to contain an angry ghost. If he stayed inside, it would only be because he wanted to make that bottle his new home.
It was a good thing he liked the marshmallow and caramel scent, because no ghosts followed us out. I did take Jenny up on her offer and follow her to her house, though.
When I arrived at Jenny's house, I noticed her mother's car in the driveway right away. I knew she'd been in town to go to the Darlington Seance with Jenny, but Jenny hadn't mentioned that she was still staying with her.
We went inside and Jenny's mother was sitting at the computer in the living room playing online bingo. She quickly closed the window when we came in, but it was too late, I'd seen it.
"Hello, girls,” she chirped happily. "Jenny, I didn't know we'd be having guests."
"Yeah, Fern might stay over," Jenny said, oblivious to the fact that her mother wasn't as pleased about my presence as she was trying to sound.
"Well, then I'll get you girls some mulled cider,” she said. "How about that?"
"Thanks, mom," Jenny said.
"Yes, thank you,” I said, but the look Jenny's mom returned wasn't happy.
For a split second, I saw contempt flash in her eyes, but she quickly replaced it with a big smile. "Coming right up,” she said as she disappeared into the kitchen.
Before she'd closed the window, I'd seen the bingo screen on the computer. There'd been a huge flashing banner across the top that said "Win big today!!! Cash Prizes Paid Hourly!!!"
Jenny Mae's mother was playing online bingo with real money. She was gambling. I couldn't help but wonder if it had anything to do with Jenny's new obsession with dragon racing. Perhaps it wasn't Jenny's obsession. I wanted to ask her about it, but I didn't dare while her mother was in the house. That was a circus full of monkeys that would remain not mine for the time being.
Jenny's mother returned a few minutes later with two huge mugs of mulled cider. "You ladies don't stay up too late,” she said. "If you don't mind, Jenny, I'm going to take the laptop to the guest room. I was in the middle of something."
"No problem, mom,” she said. "Thanks for the cider."
I took a huge sniff of the cider and tried to detect if there was any magic in it. It's not like I wanted to be suspicious of Jenny's mother, but the way she'd looked at me gave me pause. Fortunately, there was nothing in it I could detect except a splash of good old-fashioned bourbon.
"Your mom spiked the drinks,” I said.
"Yeah, she loves her whiskey. It's probably less than half a shot," Jenny said. "If you don't want yours, I'll drink it."
"No, it's fine,” I said and took a sip. "It's good."
Just then, Jenny's mom poked her head back out of the bedroom down the hall. "Jenny, don't forget we're going to the track tomorrow afternoon,” she said and then went back into the room before Jenny could answer.
"I hope that's okay," Jenny said and took a big gulp of her cider.
"It's fine,” I said. "I'm interviewing for the new assistant tomorrow anyway. I guess I'll just have to hire someone sooner rather than later."
"Are you going to fire me?" Jenny asked sincerely.
"No, I'm not,” I said. "We just need some extra help around the shop."
"So, did you find anything useful at Marcel's house?" Jenny changed the subject.
"I think that Marcel was trying to break through the barrier and contact Charles Darlington using Darlington family magic,” I said. "I found a spell book, and there was a meditation spell in it. I think that's why he was sitting all alone in that room for so long. That's why he didn't want to come out until he was in the proper headspace."
"What about this?" Gumbo asked.
He'd been in the kitchen stealing goddess only knew what food, but he'd sauntered back into the living room. For a second, I didn't notice that he'd dropped the cursed skull ring thingy at my feet. When I did, I pulled my feet up onto the sofa.
"Gumbo, what are you doing?" I asked.
"Don't worry, I grabbed it for you. Also, I removed the curse,” he said and plopped down.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"No,” he said. "I've been carrying around a cursed object... Yeah, I'm sure."
Deciding to trust him, I plucked the little ring off the floor and held it out on my palm so Jenny could get a look. "I found this on the windowsill near Marcel's desk."
"That beadwork looks like Gardenia Strange's artwork,” she said. "She loves to use those little glass beads. She has to special order them."
"Who?" I asked. "The name sounds somewhat familiar, but I can't place her."
"Gardenia is a medium for the association. She lives just outside of town in a little house on the beach. She does a lot of beadwork and embroidery that she works magic spells into. Maybe the cursed object was a threat to Marcel since he was always blocking her and ridiculing her at medium meetings," Jenny said.
"How do you know all of this?" I asked.
"It's just one of those things people around town know. Every time Marcel insulted her at a meeting, it made the gossip rounds. I'm surprised you never heard about it."
"I probably did and ignored it since it didn't have anything to do with me,” I said. "Good thing I have you."
"Thanks," Jenny said with a smile.
"Speaking of that. You're going to open the shop for me tomorrow morning. Since you're going to take off early for the track, you can do me the favor of opening. There's plenty of stock in the freezer you can bake."
"What are you going to do?" Jenny asked.
"I'm going to make a little visit to Gardenia."
The next morning, I was on Gardenia's front porch as soon as the sun was up. It was probably rude to drop in on someone so early, but I needed answers.
Despite the early hour, Gardenia greeted me with a smile. "Come inside, Fern. How about I cook us some breakfast?"
It was Southern hospitality at its finest. Someone drops by your house at the butt crack of dawn, and you invite them in and offer to cook.
"I could help,” I said. "I'm good in the kitchen."
"That would be lovely,” she said. "Please come in."
Gardenia's kitchen was small, but it was well stocked. Her black and white checkered linoleum floor was beginning to peel up at the corners, and her boomerang patterned laminate countertops had seen better days. But despite the disrepair, everything was immaculately clean. She had everything I needed to make biscuits, so I worked on that while she whipped up some gravy.
When it was ready, Gardenia poured us each a cup of chicory coffee, and we sat down at her pine kitchen table. There were two chairs, and I took the one against the wall. The chairs didn't match the table. Mine was a red plastic seat with metal legs, and the other was a dark oak dining chair.
I'd finished about half of my biscuits and gravy when I brought up what I'd come to ask her. "So, do you ever do any work with beads and little metal disks?"
There was a touch of relaxation magic in the biscuits. I wasn't really drugging her, I told myself. It was just a touch of magic to make her feel calm with a practical stranger in her kitchen. I hadn't put anything in there to subvert her free will or compel her to tell the truth. Though I had magic I could put in food to do that, I didn't use it. Especially not when what I was doing could technically be considered personal gain. If solving Marcel's murder hadn't been for the good of the community, I probably would have been in trouble for putting the magic in the biscuits at all. Sure, you could say that no one would have known, but I knew the Universe would tattle on me.
"I did just recently get done with a project making talismans. They had little metal rings with different bangles and bead s
trings. I'm sure you've seen them around town. They were one of my best sellers."
"Oh, cool,” I said. "What kind of talismans did you do?"
"All kinds,” she answered. "There were purple beads with lion head baubles for courage. Some sunflower baubles whit yellow beads for happiness. Oh, and my favorite were the shell baubles with different shades of blue beads. Those were to help people be more flexible. Make them able to flow like water. Get it?"
"That is really cool,” I said. "Did you do any others?"
"A lot,” she said. "I spent a long time on that project."
She didn't elaborate further. I wondered if she'd made the cursed talisman and whether it had been a part of the plan to kill Marcel. The items she was describing sure sounded like the one I found.
"Did you hear about the murder of Marcel Love?" I decided to go with a different approach.
"Of course I heard,” she said. "I hadn't arrived yet that night, but you already knew that. Anyway, I couldn't bring myself to mourn the passing of such a thoroughly horrible little man who used his gifts for so much ill."
She said she hadn't arrived yet when Marcel had been killed, but could I believe her? Someone had to have snuck into the Darlington Manor to kill Marcel.
I wanted to ask her more, but it was evident that Gardenia was sick of the topic. I’d already worn her welcome thin, so I had to drop it.
“Oh, look at the time,” I said. “I have to get to work. Thank you so much for breakfast.”
“The biscuits were wonderful,” Gardenia said.
I hurried out the door after that as if I were really late for work. My mind was reeling from everything I'd learned, and I wanted some fresh air to help me process it.
Chapter Eight
Later that morning, I found myself distracted by my interview preparations. I had several tasks that I wanted the candidates to complete, and I was compiling a list of interview questions.
As I was wandering up front to contemplate another task, Trevor Davies walked into the shop. Trevor owned Wing, Hoof, and Paw, the local race track. He was flushed, probably with anger, but his mustache was still perfectly curled at the ends. That told me his ruddy complexion wasn't the result of any strenuous exercise. Oh, no, he was just in a mood.
"Hello, Trevor,” I said cheerfully. My concern was that his mood had something to do with Jenny Mae. I was busy with the interview stuff, but I would take a break to put myself between Trevor and Jenny just in case. "How can I help you?"
"Hello, Fern. I hope you are well,” he said overly formally.
It was no secret that Trevor wasn't particularly fond of me. Word around town was that he thought I was a goody two-shoes and a busybody. He was right that I wasn't particularly fond of gambling, but his belief that I looked down on him for it was probably more from his own insecurities than from my actual feelings. That being said, I didn't like that Jenny had gotten sucked into gambling at his track.
"I am doing well, thank you. What can I get for you today?"
"I was hoping you had one of your Lucky Lemon Drizzle Cakes in stock. I'd like to buy one,” he said.
"Are you sure you should be messing with luck given your profession?" I teased, and instantly realized my little joke was a mistake.
Trevor's already red face turned even redder. "I've never, ever fixed a game,” he snapped. "No matter what that idiot Marcel Love spread about me. In fact, Marcel was the one using his talents to cheat. He was the one using premonition to pick winners. I was this close to proving it too." Trevor held up his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "I almost had him."
I was tempted to ask him more about Marcel, but that would have been pushing my luck too far. I was already fortunate that his ire was directed at Marcel and not me for teasing him. Trevor was a wealthy and influential man in Brookdale. As much as I didn't like gambling, most of the town's rich and powerful residents didn't agree, and they were in Trevor's pocket. And, he had very deep pockets. If I offended him or turned him against me, it could be the end of the Blue Moon.
"That's horrible,” I said as sympathetically as possible.
Trevor seemed to relax a bit. "I guess he's not a problem anymore."
I just nodded in agreement. "Uh huh. Well, let me get your cake."
As I packaged up the cake, my suspicions about Trevor grew. He evidently hated Marcel and had benefited both emotionally and financially from Marcel's death.
"Good luck,” I said as I slid the cake box across the counter to him.
He grumbled his thanks and paid me before leaving in a huff. What he'd really needed was a baker's dozen of De-Stress Donuts or a few Cheer Cupcakes. I wasn't going to say that to him, though.
Once he was gone, I turned and saw Gumbo waiting near the door. I walked back into my office and he followed me.
"Did you hear any of that?" I said as I closed my office door.
"Well, I was asleep through some of it, but I do have to admit that his hatred for Marcel is interesting. As was his open relief at him being dead."
"There are so many who feel the same way, though. At every turn, he was trying to ruin people's reputations. He called Garnet a liar. He accused Trevor of cheating and then used his powers to ensure he won."
"Yeah, but what about Patrick?" Gumbo asked. "He had to work for that ogre every day, and with Marcel gone, Patrick is in line to lead the Medium Association."
"Gardenia thought he was horrible, but she didn't elaborate. She is probably the one who made the cursed object talisman I found, though."
"But did that have anything to do with Marcel's death?" Gumbo asked.
"I don't know,” I said with a shrug. "So many people hated this guy."
Before I could say anything else, there was a soft knock at my office door. A second later, Jenny opened the door.
"Sorry to bother you, but Detective Landry is here to see you,” she said.
"Thanks, Jenny."
I walked out front and found Mitch standing off to one side. Jenny went back to the counter and began taking orders again so I could speak with him.
"Coffee and a donut today?" I asked. "I've got the Ethiopian as my dark roast."
"No thanks,” he said humorously.
Instantly, I was on edge. It wasn't like Mitch to refuse coffee and his favorite donut. My heart sank as it dawned on me that it was a professional call, but for his profession, not mine.
"Okay, should we step into my office?" I asked.
"That would probably be best."
I swallowed the lump in my throat and fought back tears. I didn't know what he had to say yet, but his demeanor was terrifying me.
I led him behind the counter and through the kitchen to my office. Before we disappeared into the back, all eyes in the shop were on us, and I knew tongues would wag as soon as we were out of earshot.
Mitch stepped into my office, and I picked Gumbo up from my desk and put him on the floor with a giant eye roll. It figured that when things were at their worst, he'd be snoozing right in the middle of the desk.
"Your cat is in the bakery," Mitch observed.
"He stays in the office,” I said. "Besides, he's my familiar. He doesn't shed or anything."
"A cat that doesn't shed?" Mitch cocked an eyebrow high.
"Yeah. That's one of the advantages of magic,” I said. "So, what did you come here to tell me? You're making me very nervous."
"I wish I could tell you not to be, but so far, the only fingerprints we've identified in the room where Marcel was killed are his and yours,” he said and sighed. "The spell expert hasn't been able to find a signature link in the magic on the knife either. Those two things together don't look good for you. Especially when I hear that you and Marcel had an altercation in the newspaper office. He threatened you, and you didn't tell me about that, Fern."
"He threatened a lot of people, Mitch. It was kind of his thing. Besides, our little dust-up wasn't that bad according to the lady at the newspaper office. She said she's seen him act far worse
,” I said.
"You were running late to the seance too," Mitch said. "Patrick said you were not on time."
"That would make me less likely to have killed him since according to Patrick, he was still alive when I got there."
Mitch made a harrumph sound.
"All Marcel threatened me with was a bad review of my bakery. I would never kill someone over that. I mean... I would never kill someone over anything," I quickly added. "Have you looked into Garnet or Trevor yet?"
"Why would we?" Mitch asked.
"Garnet hated Marcel because he called her a liar. She believes that a town founder was married on the site of her bakery, and Marcel didn't hesitate to tell everyone she made the whole story up. He was trying to ruin her reputation,” I said. "And Trevor was just in here talking about how much he hated Marcel too. Apparently, Marcel called him a cheat while at the same time using his premonition powers to cheat himself."
"I'll look into it,” he said.
"I could help you, you know. I could maybe offer my services as a magical expert,” I said hopefully.
Mitch's face softened and he took a deep breath. "I can't have you do that, Fern. You're a suspect in the case, and at the very least a witness. You can't be involved in the official investigation."
"I want to be clear of this,” I said. "I can't stand people thinking that I killed someone."
"I know," Mitch said softly. "If it will make you feel any better, I will take that coffee and donut before I go."
Chapter Nine
Once Mitch left the bakery with his coffee and donut in hand, I refocused on the interviews. I couldn't help with the investigation, so I reasoned that I could at least get something productive done at work. We had some big orders coming in next week, and I needed the help. Stewing over Marcel's murder wasn't going to do my business any favors.
My first candidate came in ten minutes early for her interview. Ruth D'Aubrey was a young woman who was probably only interviewing with me to prove to her family that she wasn't afraid to get a job. She certainly didn't need one and had never had one before either. The D'Aubreys were one of the richest families in town. Ruth had a great deal of artistic talent, and that's why I chose her to come in for an interview.
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