“Let’s say you’re right,” I said to Harper as I drew my feet up onto the sofa and tucked them beneath me. “Cyanide isn’t exactly a street drug, so how would someone even get hold of something like that?”
Distant hammering punctuated my sentence. The construction crews were working overtime at my new house to get the roof done before the next rainfall. As late-afternoon sunshine filtered through the gauzy curtains of Ve’s family room, it gave the room a golden glow. The space felt like Ve. Warm and inviting. Soft and cozy. Fanciful and full of color and life. One could get swallowed by the overstuffed sofa, dizzy from the swirling patterns in the area rug, and lost for days reading all the books crammed onto built-in shelves.
“Online, of course,” Harper said.
Well, of course.
“You can get anything online,” she added, reaching for another chip. “From bootleg laundry detergent to tiny turtles, and everything in between. Including poison. The black market is a profitable one.”
“Tiny turtles?” Mimi echoed, her chocolate brown eyes narrowed with skepticism. “Really?”
“If their shell is less than four inches, they’re banned by the FDA because of salmonella risks.” Sunbeams set Harper’s face aglow as she talked. “But that doesn’t stop people from selling them.”
I was again impressed with Harper’s steel-trap mind. Tiny turtles. Who knew?
“Did Natasha have any enemies?” Mimi asked, turning her full attention on me.
It was times like these that I had to remind myself that Mimi was just thirteen years old. Barely a teenager. Sometimes she seemed much older and wiser than her years.
At her question, I immediately thought of Vivienne Lucas.
If I had just learned my husband had been carrying on with Natasha, I’d be mad enough to kill her. And him. But the timing was off. Glinda had confirmed to me that she told Vivienne of what we had seen in the hallway between Baz and Natasha only moments before the woman collapsed. I found it highly unlikely that Vivienne had been carrying around cyanide with her for just-in-case scenarios.
No. If Natasha had been poisoned, someone had planned it. Meticulously.
But who?
And why?
Just thinking about someone gliding around the showroom floor with poison in their pocket gave me the willies. It was so . . . menacing.
Evil.
“I’m not sure,” I finally said.
Mimi shoved a spiral of hair over her shoulder, but the curl immediately sprang loose again. “Does she have family here?”
“Not that I know of,” I said, pressing a throw pillow against my aching stomach. “But I didn’t know her very well at all.”
“Me neither,” Harper chimed in. “Mrs. P and Pepe might know more about her.”
“We have no business asking them about her,” I said.
Mrs. P, whose real name was Eugenia Pennywhistle, and Pepe were two of my favorites in the villages. It didn’t matter a bit that they were mouse familiars—I counted them as dear friends. They were the closest the village had to town historians, which Harper knew perfectly well.
“Please?” she begged, grinning like a kid at Christmas.
She was seriously in the wrong line of work. I knew she loved the bookshop, but she ate, slept, breathed criminal justice and all its offshoots, especially forensics.
As much as I wanted to know what had happened to Natasha, too, I dashed Harper’s hopes.
“No. Natasha was a mortal, so we have no business snooping around. Let Nick handle it.”
If she had been a witch, as a Craft investigator I would have been obligated to check her background. It was my job to look into any criminal activities that might involve our heritage. Elder’s orders. But as a mortal, I had no jurisdiction.
“Party pooper,” Harper said. Then after another moment, she nodded to a fluffy black lump glued to my left side and added, “What are you going to do with her?”
Her.
I looked down.
Titania stared up at me, her amber eyes unblinking.
Earlier, I’d really had no other option than to take her home with me. The Wisp had been evacuated, and I couldn’t very well leave her there.
Without her headdress and heavy jeweled collar, both of which I had removed the moment we walked through the back door, she was cuddlier than ever. I scratched her head. “I don’t know. Wait until someone claims her, I guess. A distant relative, maybe. A neighbor?”
“I think she claimed you,” Harper pointed out matter-of-factly.
“She does seem to like you,” Mimi agreed.
It did, in fact, seem that way. Titania hadn’t left my side since we left the Wisp.
If she was going to stay here for a bit, I’d need to get some supplies as soon as possible. Food, a new (lightweight) collar, a kitty litter box. The basic necessities, since I didn’t think Tilda would take too kindly to sharing. I planned a visit to the Furry Toadstool as soon as it opened tomorrow morning to pick up what I needed.
I was making a mental shopping list when the sound of a rooster crowing echoed through the room, coming from the vicinity of the back door.
I knew that noise. It was Archie’s version of a doorbell.
Before anyone could stand up, his muffled voice came through the door. “Darcy? Are you in there? Shake a leg! It’s not safe out here for a bird like me!”
Chapter Seven
“I’ll get him,” Mimi said, jumping up.
“Not safe?” I looked at Harper. “What do you think he means by that?”
“I don’t know, but he’s definitely safer out there than in here with Higgins and Tilda,” Harper said, making a good point.
Both animals tended to view Archie as a snack.
A moment later, Mimi was back. Archie flew behind her, dropping feathers as he floated along.
“I’m molting. Molting!” he exclaimed as he landed on the edge of the coffee table and began pacing.
Higgins surged to his feet. In his eyes, Archie was similar to one big chicken nugget.
“Not the drool,” Archie cried in his most ardent voice as he stared at the enormous dog. “Anything but the drool. Shoo! Shoo!” He flapped his wings at Higgins.
Drool puddled on the table.
Harper snatched the chips out of the line of fire, snapped her fingers, and gave Higgins a stern “Pzzzt. Down.”
Obediently, he sat, his thick eyebrows twitching as he glanced between Harper and his potential dinner.
“Down,” she said, dragging the word out. “All the way.”
He plopped to the floor, sulking.
She was magic where he was concerned, a true dog whisperer.
As Tilda watched Archie from the mantel, he went back to pacing the table, his beady eyes frenzied, his colorful wings quivering. “Can this day get any worse? I ask you. Can it? No, no, it cannot,” he said in his deep voice, answering his own question.
“What happened?” I asked. “Why do you feel unsafe?”
Archie was well-known for his theatrics, but I’d never seen him this agitated before. He was frantic.
“What happened, you ask?” He pivoted when he reached the far end of the table. “What happened, you ask? I’ll—”
Harper jabbed a finger in his direction. “If you don’t stop repeating yourself like that, I’m going to feed you to the dog.”
He puffed out his colorful chest. His words oozing with pomposity, he said, “You would not dare.”
She leaned in, her nose to his beak. “Bet me.”
To prevent a fight, I said to Archie, “What’s with the molting?”
He cleared his throat. “‘Listen, this is embarrassing for me,’” he said in a stage whisper. “‘This is hard to talk about.’”
Harper and Mimi groaned in unison. Neither enjoyed Archie’s a
nd my long-standing game of trying to stump each other with movie quotes. We, however, found it endlessly entertaining.
“The 40-Year-Old Virgin,” I said, ignoring the peanut gallery. “Now spill.”
“First,” he said, pacing again, “I had to endure the exceeding humiliation of the Extravaganza. It wasn’t enough for people passing by to touch me at every turn, to try to pluck my feathers,” he stated emphatically while spreading his wings, which had bald spots, “but for some reason my normally effusive audience dwindled to a dribble this year. A dribble, I te—”
Harper coughed a warning.
Archie stomped a claw. “I’ll tell you the reason! It’s Lady Catherine’s fault. An unoriginal canine pout usurping my soliloquies and a cappella melodies? It’s an affront of the highest order. I’m outraged! Incensed! Aggrieved!”
Titania seemed entranced by Archie. She kept a steady watch on him, her gaze following his every move. Her interest didn’t seem to be in a snack food kind of way, but simply out of curiosity. I rubbed her chin and wondered what she thought of being here with us, instead of home with Natasha where she belonged.
“Sounds to me your feathers are ruffled because you’re jealous,” Harper said, humor etching her tone.
“Jealous!” Archie huffed indignantly. “I beg to differ. I’m merely . . .” He trailed off.
“Jealous?” Mimi supplied, giggling.
He ignored them and said, “Never any of you mind that overhyped glowering pooch, Lady Catherine. She is but a bottom feeder in my pool of distress.”
“For the love,” Harper murmured.
Archie’s gaze flitted between us as he waited patiently for someone—anyone—to ask for clarification of his dismay.
“Go on,” I finally said, playing his game. Otherwise, I feared he’d pace the coffee table all day long.
Archie went back to pacing, and I braced myself for his forthcoming explanation. I expected to hear some sort of frivolous quibble like an insult to his plumage or some such. He’d been distraught by much less in the past.
Clearing his throat, he said, “During the anarchy of the Wisp’s evacuation, someone knocked Terry down. In the ensuing confusion, a sack was thrown over my head, and the marauder scurried off with me.” His voice rose to a fever pitch. “I was stolen!”
Sitting straight, Mimi said, “Is Terry okay?”
“He’s fine,” Archie assured her. “I, however, am beside myself. If not for my quick thinking, who knows where I’d be now?”
“On the back of a milk carton, no doubt,” Harper quipped.
Archie threw her a withering look. He could give Lady Catherine a run for her money. “Hardy-har-har.”
“What did you do?” Mimi asked. “How’d you get away?”
Archie lit up. “I mimicked a police siren. The thief dropped the bag and skedaddled quicker than you can say ‘do not pass go.’”
“And you don’t have any idea who it was?” I asked.
“Not a clue. Some ne’er-do-well who probably visited with me at the Extravaganza and was impressed with my charming personality.” He preened. “The coward was long gone by the time I made my way out of the sack. Terry is currently at the police station filing a report.”
I imagined that report wouldn’t garner much attention in light of Natasha’s death.
Archie said, “Now, as much as I’d love to linger and share every last detail of my escapade, I must bid you all adieu. To the woods, I go. It is imperative I inform the Elder of this disturbing episode.”
It was just like Archie to drop a bombshell and take off.
“Tell her we say hi,” Harper said, not meaning a word of it.
Harper wanted little to do with the Elder . . . or Wishcraft. Even though we’d been here a year, she hadn’t quite accepted her role as a witch.
Mimi blanched. “Just Harper and Darcy say hi. Leave me out of it. She scares me.”
Truthfully, she used to terrify me, too. But now . . .
Now I was more curious about her than fearful. Mostly. “Just Harper,” I said.
Archie shook his head and mumbled under his breath. Mimi saw him out, and then dropped a handful of bright red feathers on the table when she returned. I picked one up.
A potential murder. An attempted birdnapping.
It had been a really strange day.
The front bell rang, and we all looked in that direction.
“I’ll get this one,” I said, standing and stretching. Usually, only clients used the front door—friends used the back door. “I can’t imagine who it is; I’m not expecting anyone.”
Harper stuck another chip into the salsa. “It’s probably the runaway goat. She heard the news that Titania is staying here and wants some chin scratching, too. You know how fast gossip spreads through this village.”
Laughing, I said, “At this point, it wouldn’t surprise me.”
As I walked away, Titania shadowed me, keeping close to my heels. When I was halfway down the hallway, I heard Mimi say to Harper, “Hey, Harper, is it wrong that I now kind of want a tiny turtle?”
“Yes,” I heard Harper say. “Yes, it is.”
I was still smiling as I pulled open the door. At the sight of my visitor, however, my humor faded. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the goat.
“I need your help, Darcy.”
Chapter Eight
“You fired me, remember?” I said to Ivy Teasdale.
I kept my body angled slightly in order to block the doorway. Not so Ivy couldn’t see in—but so Titania wouldn’t slip out. The village didn’t need another lost pet to contend with.
“I know I did.” Ivy’s tight topknot had fallen out, and she ran a hand through her disheveled hair, the pink-tipped ends lifting in the breeze. “And I’m sorry about that. Truly I am. I lost my temper when you couldn’t be found at the Extravaganza, and I let my anger get the best of me.” Lifting her shoulders in a gentle shrug, she expelled a deep breath and looked me dead in the eye with a sincere expression. “I know I’m asking a lot of you, but can I have just a minute of your time?”
Just say no. Just. Say. No.
“One minute only,” I said, giving in. I yelled inside to Harper and Mimi that I’d be right back, and I nudged Titania backward with my foot before slipping outside and closing the door behind me.
The sweet scent of roses permeated the air as I sat on the top porch step. I had no shoes on, and the warmth of the sun-drenched wooden planks radiated through the sensitive skin on the soles of my bare feet.
If Ivy was insulted that I hadn’t invited her into the house, she didn’t show it as she lowered herself next to me. At some point during the day, she’d removed her suit jacket and now wore only a sleeveless purple shell for a top. Smoothing her black skirt, she kicked her long legs out, resting her bright green sneakers on the lip of the bottom step. She crossed her ankles and pressed her knees together, ensuring that any tourists who happened by wouldn’t get a free peep show.
A steady stream of cars rolled into the village. It was another busy June Saturday, and the death of a local woman wasn’t likely to stop the tourist trade. All of the displaced Extravaganza contestants would also have to stick around until the police allowed them to return to the Wisp to collect their belongings. I could easily pick out the displaced entrants with their stunned expressions and tight grips on their pets’ leashes or cages. A makeshift staging area had been set up on the green, and it looked as though it was turning into a lawn party as someone started playing loud music. Dogs barked in accompaniment.
“Was that Titania I saw in the doorway?” Ivy asked, jerking a thumb over her shoulder.
On a few of Ivy’s fingertips, her black fingernail polish was chipped along the edges as though she’d been biting her nails. After the stress of the day, I was surprised they hadn’t been bitten to the quick. With a slump to her s
houlders, she didn’t seem as tightly strung as she had been yesterday, which was most likely a result of today’s events.
It was hard to remain uptight when all hell was breaking loose around you.
“It was Titania,” I confirmed.
I glanced across the street. A small search party led by Angela Curtis, Harmony’s life partner, traversed the green calling Cookie’s name. I hoped they found the little goat soon. Harmony and Angela had had her only a couple of months, and I knew they’d grown attached. The village was packed with tourists today, so it was entirely likely someone had seen Cookie out and about. “I couldn’t just leave Titania in the evacuated building, and I don’t know if Natasha has any relatives around who can take her cat. Do you know?”
“None come to mind. She was always one to keep her private life private. However, I did hear a rumor that she was dating Chip Goldman. Don’t know if that’s true, but if it is, you could check with him about taking Titania.”
“I heard that rumor, too.” Evan had seemed pretty certain of the relationship, but it wasn’t my place to make an official confirmation. “Chip’s allergic to cats, though, so I doubt he’ll take her.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “That explains his constant sniffling, watery eyes, and blinking. Why was he even there today? It’s not exactly the best place for people with cat allergies.”
“Apparently, Natasha is very persuasive. Was,” I corrected absently.
“I can believe that.” She picked cat hair from her skirt.
Wearing black had been an ill-advised decision. The skirt was covered in fur.
“You could check with him about Natasha’s relatives,” she said. “If they were close, he’d probably know. Or I can put her up for adoption through Fairytails.”
Leaves rustled in a breeze that carried with it a hint of saltiness from the coast. The scent was one of my favorite things. I breathed it in, letting it soothe my rattled nerves. “Thanks, but I’ll see what I can find out first.”
Her eyes shimmered in the sunlight as she slid me a sideways glance. “When you talk to Chip, perhaps you can ask him if he had a reason to harm Natasha.”
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