by Ani Gonzalez
Stella kept staring at her cookie, as if, at that moment, it was the center of her universe. The smirk wiped from her face. "I thought they got carried away with the crash. I thought they only meant to scare us, not cause actual injury."
"This is as real as it gets," Luanne muttered.
"But who is the 'they'?" Fiona asked. "Who are you referring to? Berenice?"
"Oh, no," Stella said. "Berenice loved the company. She would never do anything to destroy it like this. She was heartbroken when Violet pushed her out."
Fiona and Luanne exchanged looks.
"That could be a type of betrayal," Luanne said in a quiet voice. "And heartbreak can make people do strange things."
"At first, I thought the letters were from Berenice," Stella admitted. "So I didn't pay much attention to them." She threw up her hands. "I even thought the accident may have been her."
Flora's eyes went wide. "You thought she meant to kill her sister?"
"No," Stella exclaimed. "Just scare her a little." She sighed. "You never met Violet, and you never saw her interactions with Berenice. Outwardly, Violet seemed self-assured, but she was actually very insecure. Whenever something went wrong, she relied on Berenice."
Flora nodded. "Like when the patents didn't go through. Bella said that was almost the end of the company."
Stella nodded. "Exactly. Violet was so discouraged, she almost gave up, but Berenice kept her going. They were very close."
"Why did they fall out?" Fiona asked.
"The sisters had the same bad temper," Flora said. "I arrived after Berenice left, but I still heard about their fights. They were legendary." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I was told Violet threw a box full of Hexalife Anti-Anxiety Ankh Charms at Berenice."
"She did," Stella said. "It was a huge mess, and it alarmed the supplier. He'd blessed the charms in the traditional manner, so breaking them would cause tragedies and bad luck."
"He wasn't wrong," Luanne muttered.
"For sure," Stella said. "I thought maybe Berenice took advantage of that, and decided to scare her sister with a bunch of nasty letters and a close shave on the road. A freaked-out Violet would then turn to her sister in desperation, and Berenice could swoop in and save the day."
"You thought it was just manipulation gone wrong?" Fiona asked.
"Yes, but this—" Stella shuddered. "This is different. And now Tristan is saying he has proof the finances of the group are kaput, and Violet was trying to get a loan to keep the company afloat. That means I have little reason to remain here." She raised her chin. "I called a friend, and she'll be picking me up tomorrow. I'm done with Hexalife."
Flora stared at her in horror. "But you've invested so much in this."
"And it's time to cut my losses," Stella said. "A crazy vengeful Berenice Vonn was one thing. These people are another."
"But who are they?" Fiona asked. "Do you know?"
"I only heard rumors," Stella said. "I don't know the details." She glanced at Flora. "But she does."
Fiona's cousin went pale.
Fiona recalled Flora's anxiety last night. Had her cousin been right all along?
Fiona glanced at Luanne, looking for some guidance, but the fortune-teller was peering out the conference room window, brows furrowed.
She turned, following Luanne's gaze. Outside, a van was speeding into the motel parking lot. It was large. It was purple. It had a large yellow eye stenciled on the side.
It was a PRoVE van.
Fiona gasped as the van swerved into a narrow parking space, barely avoiding Leslie's battered Trans Am.
The van stopped with a piercing screech, the driver's side door burst open, and Caine Magnusson leaped out, his face red with rage.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"ONE OF my vans?" Caine growled as he stormed into the hotel lobby. "They used one of my vans?"
Caine's face was beet red, his bright blue eyes bulged, and he was practically shaking with rage. A trio of PRoVE staffers—two dark-haired youths and an older, portly man with a neatly trimmed beard—followed in his wake.
Sean aimed an accusing glance at Olivia. "Wasn't he told to meet us at the station?"
Olivia threw up her hands. "Does he ever listen?"
Gavin put his hand over his mouth to cover his smile. Caine was not great at following directions. He was, however, fantastic at attracting crowds. Motel staff and guests were quickly gathering around them, and Gavin didn't want to be caught laughing.
The swelling crowd was not surprising. A six-and-a-half-foot-tall biker in jeans and a black leather vest would merit attention, even if he hadn't been wearing a garish purple PRoVE shirt. The news must have reached him while he was working, as Caine only wore that shirt when he was filming videos about supernatural occurrences.
The guests were pulling out their phones and taking pictures, excited to be witnessing actual paranormal investigators in the Monster Hunter Motel. Bella's room had been cartoonish and many of the other rooms—like the Van Helsing and Winchester rooms—could look archaic or retro, but the hotel lobby, like PRoVE, was high tech, with large screens looping old X-Files and Buffy: The Vampire Hunter episodes and lots of glass and stone. It was meant to resemble a cutting-edge center of operations for a monster hunting mission, and Caine's group, with their black cargo pants, combat boots and high-tech gear hanging from their vests, completed the picture. The screen on top was playing—yes, it was an old PRoVE episode.
"I told Gus we had to keep the keys to the black van locked up," Caine said, glaring at the bearded man next to him. "That's the one they used, right? I told him we had to keep people from borrowing it, but he thought it would show community spirit."
The bearded man sighed.
Sean glanced at the fascinated tourists. "Caine, let's have this conversation in the station."
But Caine continued, "You're going to scold me for not reporting it missing." He scratched the back of this head. "I can't blame you, but, honestly, we just thought someone borrowed it and forgot to sign it out."
Olivia's brows went up. "That happens a lot?"
Caine grimaced. "With this group? Well, yes."
And Gavin could attest to that. He'd never used the PRoVE van, but Fiona had borrowed it to pick up inventory in Fairfax, and DeShawn used it for IKEA shopping trips. The van was accessible to anyone who knew the keys were kept under the driver's front seat, which was not a well-kept secret.
"The station," Sean repeated, eyeing the crowd. "Now."
"Fine," Caine replied. "But I don't have much more to tell you." Another glare at Gus. "Other than to reassure you it will not happen again." With that, he turned and left the lobby, a chastened Gus following him out the door. The two staffers following behind.
Sean turned to Olivia, who immediately tensed. "I'll go talk to him. Finish taking the statements here."
"Sure thing," Olivia replied, visibly relaxing. Clearly she was not looking forward to tackling Caine.
Sean turned to Gavin. "Will you be sticking around?"
Gavin nodded. He could return to the station, but Fiona was here somewhere, and he wanted to make sure she was all right.
"Good. Let me know if there are any developments." Sean straightened his hat and followed the PRoVE gang out of the building. The hotel door slamming as he exited the lobby.
Olivia winced. "Someone's not happy."
"No," Gavin said. "And I don't blame him."
Caine had said that anyone could have borrowed the van, and that was partially true. Anyone in Banshee Creek could have borrowed the van. They'd assumed the culprit would be an outsider—Violet's sister, a frustrated Hexalife rep, or a disgruntled customer. They had not considered that it could be one of their own.
It was not a pleasant thought.
"Are you done with Fiona?" he asked, suddenly eager to get his girlfriend back home, where she would be safe.
"For now," Olivia said. "She arrived with Leslie and they went straight to the meeting. They wouldn't have seen
anything. I'll tell her they can leave." Her eyes narrowed. "But I'll keep the fortune-tellers here. I think Luanne's friend is holding out on me."
"Thanks," Gavin said, feeling a pang of sympathy for Luanne's friend as he watched Olivia walk away. The policewoman would not rest until all her questions were answered.
But she was as good as her word. Leslie appeared first, barely acknowledging Gavin as she raced through the lobby and out the door. Fiona and Flora appeared shortly after, walking at a much more sedate pace. Flora stared straight ahead, her face expressionless. Fiona had her arm wrapped around her cousin's shoulder. She glanced up at Gavin, brows knit into a concerned frown.
"Please tell me you can take us home," she whispered.
"My car is outside," Gavin replied, opening the door and letting in a blast of cold air. "DeShawn was the one on call."
A resounding roar greeted their exit. Leslie was speeding out of the parking lot in her battered Trans Am.
"What got into her?" Sean asked, opening the back passenger door of the Volvo and ushering Flora inside.
"I'm not sure." Fiona shivered as she glanced back at the hotel. "Stella was all hints and insinuations, but no real facts."
"Normal for a fortune-teller," Gavin replied.
Fiona's face hardened. "But frustrating. Flora will have to tell us."
Gavin glanced at the distraught girl in his back seat. Shoulders hunched and hands tightly knit together, she did not appear communicative. She didn't even seem to notice their conversation.
"That seems unlikely," he whispered.
Fiona sighed. "I know. I don't suppose you remember any poisoning cases in town, do you?"
Gavin's heart sank. Had Fiona unearthed another Banshee Creek connection?
"How long ago?" he asked, trying to recall their last poisoning scares.
Fiona frowned. "Not that long ago. Maybe two years."
"We get a few here and there," Gavin admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "What with the Halloween theme and the Wiccan groups doing experiments, the Urgent Care Center has seen its share of emergencies. What are you thinking?"
Fiona shook her head. "Just that it had something to do with a green slimming elixir they were selling. It was their first product, and it was synonymous with Hexalife for a long time."
"A green shake for breakfast," Gavin muttered, recalling the company's ads. "A greener one for lunch."
But the mental image of the ad's perky blonde witch was replaced by a recent memory—a glass full of green liquid sitting on Bella's bedside table.
"And then a magical dinner," Flora finished the slogan, finally joining in their conversation. "From my cookbooks, preferably."
She laughed, but there was a bitter edge to it.
"I haven't seen that ad for a while," Gavin admitted.
"They stopped making the product," Flora said. "I wasn't told why, but I haven't seen a shake packet in years."
And yet one had shown up in Bella's room.
"But what does it have to do with Banshee Creek?" he asked.
"According to Stella, there was one last shipment, and it was sent to someone in town." Fiona's voice dropped to a whisper. "It was a big one, so it cleaned them out of the product. So big, in fact, that Violet was afraid the customer had ordered it as part of an investigation into Hexalife."
"Who's the customer?" Gavin asked, uncomfortably aware of who in Banshee Creek was likely to investigate something magically related.
"That's the strange part. It came up when Caine's van arrived at the motel." Fiona leaned forward. "Stella thinks it was PRoVE."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"THIS IS all she did?" Kat asked, eyeing the pile of books. "Are you sure?"
They crowded around one of the Banshee Creek Bakery's tiny tables. It was the middle of the early morning rush, and Patricia O'Dare was busy filling orders for her Peppermint Shamrock Coffees and Golden Rainbow Lattes. The bakery was full of customers, and they were lucky to have found a table to crowd around.
It was not the best time for a meeting, but it was definitely the earliest, and Fiona was determined to clear her cousin of any potential poisoning charges.
"Yes." Fiona picked up the two books on top of the pile. "These are cookbooks. I looked at the recipes last night and they all seemed fine to me."
She had stayed up with Flora, checking every ingredient in her cousin's many recipes. Although the dishes were all based on magical and astrological concepts, the shopping lists were mundane, consisting mostly of colorful vegetables and fruits.
"Flora wanted the members to be able to find the ingredients easily," Fiona explained. "So everything is, well, normal."
"She sure likes peppers," Kat noted, leafing through the book.
"Yes," Fiona admitted. "You can find them in different colors, so it's easy to work them into a system to match a goddess or astrological sign. She says she had real trouble finding blue foods, and that's the one area where she had to get exotic and use blue corn and purple yams."
"Neither of which is poisonous," Kat mused. "You're sure that's what you're looking for, poison?"
"It's not necessarily what Sean is looking for," Fiona said. "But it's the only tragedy Flora could possibly be involved in, so it's my main concern."
"Well, no one died from stuffed pepper poisoning," Kat peered at the page, "even if it was filled with Scorpio-approved hot chilies."
"Scorpios are spicy," Flora said.
Kat smiled. "Indeed, we are." She put those two books aside and reached for the next one. "I imagine this is the one you wanted me to look at."
She showed Fiona the cover, which read The Hexalife Guide to Herbalism: Your Guide to Your Natural Best Life.
Fiona nodded. That book was Flora's masterpiece, and she had worked on it for years. It had remedies, cures, and even beauty treatments, and it included every single herbal concoction Flora had ever created.
And it may have hurt someone.
"I know something about herbs," Fiona said. "But only enough to make my candles. I can't tell if these concoctions could be harmful. Flora says she tested all of them, but now she's terrified she could have made a mistake."
Kat opened the book and leafed through the pages. "You want me to look at them and check if anything in here could be harmful?" She raised a brow. "She certainly likes her calendula."
Fiona frowned, thinking of the fiery orange flowers she'd put in her Autumn candles. "Is that poisonous?"
"Not at all." Kat pointed at a yellow square on the page. "And she warns that pregnant women should not use it because it may cause uterine contractions." She turned to another page. "She also tells the readers to test her chamomile ointment on a small patch of skin first." She closed the book. "Your cousin sounds like a careful witch."
Fiona remembered Flora's childhood experiments, the research books piled on the floor of her room, the meticulous measuring and re-measuring. "She likes to be thorough."
Kat reached out and took Fiona's hand, her brow lined with concern. "I'll check these, but I'm sure she didn't make any mistakes."
Fiona smiled, appreciating her friend's support. "Thank you. I just want to make sure."
Kat glanced down at the book. "I understand, but these concoctions are harmless. I find it hard to believe that these recipes could harm anyone."
But Fiona had stopped listening. The door to the bakery had opened, and Gemma Harris walked in.
The morning rush had dwindled and Gemma hurried toward the counter. Finding Bella had taken its toll. Gemma had dark circles under eyes and she seemed to be wearing the same clothes as the day before.
"Two of everything," she said to Patricia in a tired voice. "And with double shots of espresso, please."
"I hear you had a rough night," Patricia said, reaching for a stack of paper cups.
The baker's tone was warm and sympathetic. No wonder, since Fiona had filled her in before the shop opened. She didn't just want Kat's advice. She needed Patricia's input as well.<
br />
Unlike Kat, Fiona, and Luanne, Patricia was a Banshee Creek native and a food service professional. She would remember any poisoning cases that had occurred in town.
"I still can't believe it," Gemma said, brows furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand it at all."
Patricia filled the cups with coffee and covered them with lids. "I'm sure it will be all right."
As she watched Patricia place the drinks in cardboard cupholders, the line between Gemma's eyebrows grew deeper. "I hope so. There must be a reason for it, but I just can't see it."
Patricia's nose wrinkled. "There's no good reason. It's just a crazy person causing mischief."
Gemma looked up as if startled. "Oh, no. It's not crazy." Her face twisted into an unattractive grimace. "It's anything but crazy."
She grabbed the drinks, carefully stacking the cupholders one on top of the other, and left, leaving only Patricia, Fiona, and Kat in the bakery.
"Thank heavens," Patricia said, wiping her hands on a towel as she walked to join her friends at the table. "I need the break."
Fiona winced. "I'm sorry. I should let you rest and not pester you with questions."
"It's no bother," Patricia replied, sitting on a white metal chair with a ghost silhouette in the back. "Happy to help. I want this resolved as much as anyone." She glanced at the books on the table. "But I'm not sure how I can assist. My recipes are traditional—just sugar, flour, and butter. Sometimes I use an herbal flavoring, but Kat usually helps me with that."
"I don't need you to look at the recipes," Fiona said. "I just want to know if you remember any poisonings in Banshee Creek."
Patricia frowned, glancing back at her pastry case. "Food poisoning?"
"Any kind of poisoning," Fiona explained. "Suicide, accident, bad shrimp—anything at all?"
"The town businesses haven't had anything happen, at least not since I've come back." Patricia tapped her finger against her chin. "The high school had a mononucleosis epidemic a few years ago, but that's not what you're looking for, is it?"
Fiona shook her head. "No."
