Be Careful What You Witch For (A Family Fortune Mystery)

by Dawn Eastman

  Tom waved to Josh. “I’ll have a—”

  “Already started, dude,” Josh said.

  Tom and I had our choice of tables so I steered him to one by the window as far from the counter and Josh’s ears as we could get.

  “So, what’s up with Seth? Did he run away?” Tom wasted no time introducing the topic I wanted to avoid.

  “Not exactly. Grace knows he’s here.” I didn’t fill him in on when she found out about his travel plans. Josh brought our drinks and I waited until he left to ask my next question.

  “What’s going on with the Rafe Godwin case?” I focused on my latte and tried to appear casual.

  “You know I can’t talk about an active case.” He leaned forward and waited for me to look at him. He lowered his voice. “Mac almost fired me last time.”

  I nodded through my twinge of guilt. “I know. I’m sorry. I was just asking because Diana’s so broken up about it. I thought if I could tell her more about how Rafe came in contact with peanuts, it might ease her mind.”

  Tom sat back in his seat. I could see the struggle on his face. He wanted to help Diana and loved to talk about his work. He pressed his lips together. Leaning forward, he kept his voice low. “We did hear back from the lab on that. I don’t know if it will ease her mind.” He hesitated.

  “And?”

  “Maybe you should talk to Mac about this.” He sat back. “I don’t want anything to get out of hand again.”

  Tom was referring to the standoff in the woods this past summer. He had apologized about a thousand times for getting me involved in what became a dangerous situation and was apparently still feeling guilty.

  “Mac won’t tell me anything. You know how he is.” I heard the desperate note creep into my voice and silently chided myself for manipulating him. “Can you tell me where the peanuts came from?”

  Tom sighed and looked out the window. He twisted his lip between his thumb and finger while checking up and down the street.

  He leaned forward again. “They found peanut oil in the bread that Diana made.”

  “Peanut oil? How did they test for that?”

  Tom shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t know our lab could do that sort of test, but apparently there was peanut oil on the bread.”

  “On the bread? Or in it?”

  He gave me a flat stare, obviously sorry he’d given in. “It seems that the bread had peanut oil rubbed on the outside.” He sat back and crossed his arms.

  “What does Mac say?”

  Tom shook his head. “You’re going to have to talk to him about that. I don’t want to get involved. Last time—”

  I held up my hand. I knew where this was going. “Okay, okay. I get it. You don’t want to get in trouble with Mac.”

  We stared at each other for a moment. If the oil was on the bread, then anyone could have put it there. There’s no way Diana did it, but it didn’t let Dylan off the hook.

  “This means anyone at the ceremony or near the food could have done it. But, why?”

  Tom nodded, his excitement winning out. “Exactly. The bread was sitting out on the table, according to the people we’ve interviewed so far. It was a serve-yourself kind of setup. Anyone could have—” He stopped abruptly.

  “Tom?”

  “You aren’t going to get any more out of me.” He turned in his chair to look out the window.

  “Do you want some help on this?”

  Tom shook his head violently. “No. I was wrong to ask for your help last summer. You have no idea what I went through after the case wrapped up.” He flipped his notebook shut and shoved it into his pocket. “Mac said that if anyone had gotten hurt that night in the woods, it would have been my fault. I have a sworn duty to protect the citizens of Crystal Haven and I didn’t do that this summer. I won’t make the same mistake again, and not just because Mac said he’d kill me if I put you in danger again.” His face flushed pink as he finished.

  “Mac said that?”

  Tom put up his hand. “Please, Clyde. Just let it go.”

  I nodded and glanced out the window at the brown leaves dancing down the street. Tom was right and so was Mac, but I needed to know what was going on. Diana was going to be devastated when she found out that her bread had killed Rafe.

  * * *

  As I walked to my car, my phone buzzed in my jacket pocket. I pulled it out to check the text. Diana had sent: 911—my house!

  Fortunately, she only lived a few minutes from the coffee shop. I ran two stop signs and screeched around the corner to her street. I pulled up behind a police car that had its lights flashing.

  Rushing up to the porch, I met Dylan and Charla on their way out. Dylan appeared angry and scared in equal measure. His head was down, but he looked up and caught my eye. I read him loud and clear—help. Diana followed, shouting questions at both Charla and Dylan.

  “Charla, what’s going on?” I stepped in front of them.

  “Clyde, help your friend.” She gestured back toward Diana. “I’m taking Dylan in to the station. He’s under arrest.”

  Charla had been on the Crystal Haven police force for as long as I could remember. She was the one who had convinced me to enter the police academy. And while I knew she harbored a soft spot under all the bravado, she rarely showed it. Diana’s face was pale and her eyes welled with tears.

  “Diana, we’ll figure this out.” I put my arm around her, wishing that I was better at emotions. I steered her back into the house so she wouldn’t see Dylan getting into the police car.

  “Clyde, I can’t believe they’re doing this.” She turned toward me and gripped my arms. “Can you talk to Mac? Convince him he has the wrong person. Dylan could never have done what they’re saying.”

  Mac and I thought we were being very discreet, but I wondered yet again whether Diana knew we were together. She seemed to always know what was going on in my life, whether I told her or not.

  I led her to the living room and sat next to her on the couch. “What are they saying?”

  “Charla said she’s arresting him for Rafe’s murder.” Her voice broke and tears overflowed. She took a shaky breath. “I don’t believe it.”

  I patted her back and reached for a box of tissues sitting on the coffee table. “Okay, let’s go down to the station and be sure he gets a lawyer. Do you feel up to this?”

  She nodded and clutched the tissue box to her chest.

  13

  Diana and I tailed the cruiser down the hill and into town. It pulled up in front of the police station, which was tucked between a bookstore and a palm reader. We found a parking spot not far away—impossible during the tourist season but there were only a few die-hard visitors between the fall festival and Thanksgiving. Even without the siren, a small crowd of locals had formed to watch Dylan walk into the station, his hands cuffed behind his back. It would be about ten minutes before all of Crystal Haven knew Dylan had been arrested.

  We followed Charla down the hall toward the one cell, which was more like a low-priced hotel room than any prison I had ever seen. The walls were clean and graffiti-free, and I knew the food came from Alex’s place. Ann Arbor had been a much bigger city with a more active and noisy prison facility.

  She turned and held her hand up. “You two can wait in the lobby or come back later. We have to get him in the system and finish the paperwork. It could be a couple of hours.”

  Diana released a sob when Charla said “in the system.” I took her hand and led her back out to the front. Dylan had not said a word the entire time. Maybe he would be okay if he just kept his mouth shut.

  “We need to find a lawyer, Diana. Do you want to go over to Rupert Worthington’s office and see if he can take the case or recommend someone?”

  Her eyes were glazed but she nodded. I knew she’d been keeping herself in check until the festival was over. She had
said she was going home from the ceremony the evening before to have a bath and a good cry. She’d need more than that to get through this ordeal.

  * * *

  We sat on a bench outside the police station to let Diana adjust to the circumstances. When she was no longer crying in earnest, we walked down the street in the direction of Rupert Worthington’s office. He’d been the one to tell me about my inheritance last summer. It was this bequest that had allowed me to give up my job as a dog walker and prompted me to abandon my plans to return to Ann Arbor and my old job as a police officer. He’d informed me I had inherited a house and cash but I had to live in Crystal Haven for a year in order to accept the inheritance—an unusual requirement of the will, and after some thought and prodding from my family, I had accepted. Of course, the money wouldn’t last forever and my future career was a nagging concern.

  I doubted Mr. Worthington took criminal cases but hoped he could put us in touch with someone who did. His office was near the marina, empty now and quiet. I loved the clanging of the boat riggings and the squeals of seagulls in the summer. A few leaves skittered across our path on the nearly deserted street.

  The air had turned significantly cooler in the last couple of days and I was glad to step inside the law office. Diana shivered, from cold or shock I couldn’t tell. We entered the office to the tinkling of a bell over the door.

  “May I help you young ladies?” Rupert’s rumpled look was particularly bad that day. His shirt was partly untucked, his hair stood up in small spikes around his head, and he had loosened his tie to the point that he should have just removed it.

  Diana glanced quickly at me, concern in her eyes.

  “Mr. Worthington, perhaps you remember me from the summer?”

  He took off his reading glasses and examined me. “Oh yes. Clytemnestra Fortune. How are you enjoying your new house?” He stepped forward to shake my hand.

  I took his hand. “Please call me Clyde. Everyone does.” Only a few people from my childhood still called me Clytemnestra and now that I had moved back, I was systematically working to stamp out all use of that name. It had been my mother’s misguided attempt at giving her daughters unique and meaningful names. Her name was Rose; her favorite roses were orange. Both Clytemnestra and Grace are orange roses. Dad must have lobbied on my sister’s behalf. She got the normal name. Nine years later, he gave in and I have to live with it.

  “What can I do for you?” Rupert asked. “The requirements in the will were quite clear and even though we are headed into winter, you have to stay in the house for a full year, you know. Only the tourists get to avoid the snow.” He chuckled at his own wit.

  I assured him I had no intention of moving out of the house. He politely waited for me to explain our presence.

  “This is Diana Moonward. She needs a lawyer for her brother.”

  “You look very familiar, young lady. Have we met?”

  Diana nodded. “You handled my parents’ estate. Elliot and Fiona Ward?”

  “Oh yes. I remember. What a tragedy. I’m so sorry. I’d be happy to help you. Where is your brother?” He peered behind us. “What does he need—a will, a contract review?”

  “No, sir. He’s in jail,” Diana said. “He’s been accused of murder.” Her voice broke and she began crying in earnest again.

  Rupert Worthington sucked in air and shook his head. He pawed through the papers on his desk until he found a box of tissues.

  “Oh my. I haven’t handled a criminal case in years, just years.” He chewed on his lip and regarded Diana’s pale, blotchy face. “But, yes. I can take care of him.” Rupert patted her shoulder and bounced on his toes. “I may need to consult with a firm in Grand Rapids, but you just leave everything to me.”

  Diana cast a worried glance my way.

  “Can you tell us what to expect next?” I asked. I had already told Diana what I knew from the arresting officer’s point of view, but wanted to hear what Rupert had to say. Procedures were different in various judicial districts.

  “There will be a preliminary hearing as soon as they can get it scheduled. I hope to have him released on bail but I wouldn’t plan on it. Better to be pleasantly surprised than bitterly disappointed.” Rupert began a smile and then retracted it when he saw Diana’s stricken face.

  Diana and I shook his hand again and headed back out into the brisk day.

  “What am I going to do? I don’t have money for bail. What if it’s a huge amount?” Diana waved her arms, and her eyes were wild. “Where will he stay until trial? How can they even think he did it? They’ve all known him since he was a little kid. Tom Andrews was his best friend in high school.”

  I shook my head. I had never been on this side of the arrest before. I knew he would be booked and a charge would be entered. Then they would set a court date to decide whether there was enough evidence to go to trial.

  “Let’s go to my place and figure out what the next steps should be,” I said.

  We put our heads into the wind and, with linked arms, walked up the street.

  14

  Diana arranged with Rupert to meet her at the police station later that day. We convinced Alex to leave his manager in charge of Everyday Grill and go to my place with us to make a plan. I’d called Mom and Vi. I didn’t think I could keep Diana calm and organize what to do next all on my own. My mom was great at the soothing-and-calming thing. Maybe I could convince her to do a tarot reading that was slanted toward a good outcome.

  I’d also phoned Seth, who was finally out of bed at eleven, and warned him the gang would be arriving shortly.

  The doorbell rang just as we were taking off our coats. Mom, Dad, and Vi stood on the porch. I questioned the wisdom of calling them when I saw they were laden with baskets and tote bags.

  “I knew it!” Vi said when I opened the door. She pushed past me and dropped her bags, gesturing wildly. “I knew that whole thing in the woods would lead to trouble. I just felt it in my bones and now look at us. Dylan’s in jail, Rafe is dead . . .” She got a good look at Diana and trailed off.

  “Diana, come sit down. I have cookies and chamomile tea.” Mom held out a basket and gestured toward the dining room.

  Seth, Alex, and I followed along with the dogs, who seemed to sense the mood of the room and went quietly into a corner to lie down.

  “We have to find out what really happened so we can get Dylan out of prison.” Vi pounded the table and the dogs looked up.

  “What can we do, Vi? We don’t know anything.” Mom shuffled her cards and laid them out in front of her.

  “We can start by talking to whoever was there that night,” Vi said.

  “Vi, did you see anything unusual?” I asked.

  “What wasn’t unusual? People in robes, chanting, fire in the cauldron. I was amazed!”

  “But did you see anything that might relate to what happened to Rafe?”

  Vi sat back and took up her knitting. She claimed she couldn’t really think unless she was knitting, but her talents only stretched to scarves and hats. Occasionally she branched out into dog sweaters, which she foisted onto her clients. This time, something very long and purple dangled from her needles.

  “I saw Rafe talk to that big guy.”

  “Lucan Reed?” Diana asked.

  “Yeah, that might be it. They didn’t look friendly, almost like they were arguing. They only spoke for a minute and then Rafe stalked off to the other side of the circle. It was really dark, so I couldn’t see much.”

  “What about you, Clyde?” Alex asked.

  “I was so busy keeping track of the food and making sure things didn’t blow away or get lost in the dark that I didn’t pay attention to who was talking to whom. I didn’t notice Rafe at all until he fell in the center of the circle. I thought he was having a heart attack,” I said, and glanced at Diana. It couldn’t be easy for her to be reliving that
night.

  Diana nodded. “I didn’t pay much attention to what other people were doing, either. I was focused on the ceremony and what I needed to do.”

  Mom, sitting next to Diana, patted her hand.

  “Look, honey.” Mom sat back in her chair and scrutinized her layout. “The cards say Dylan didn’t do it. If I’m reading this right it was a woman who was responsible.” We all leaned forward. It did seem as though there was a female presence in the situation, but just like every other divination technique, it was open to interpretation.

  “Let’s get out that pendulum thingy,” Seth said.

  Alex put his head in his hands. A simple divination technique, the pendulum swings in a “yes” or “no” direction in response to questions. He had never been able to work the device and he was too competitive to just let it go. The pendulum had become his nemesis.

  Vi picked up her tote bag, allowing her knitting to fall to the floor.

  “Alex, I need to check on Clyde’s alarm system. Want to help?” Dad asked. He was no fan of the pendulum, either, and the two of them disappeared.

  We spent about forty-five minutes with the pendulum with no results. Vi had just taken possession of the crystal to ask another question when the doorbell rang and triggered a clamor of barking and scraping of chairs.

  Vi got to the door first. After peeking through a small crack, she swung the door only far enough so she could fill the opening.

  “Hello, Officer Andrews.” Her voice was icy. “What can we do for you?” She crossed her arms, and I could tell she was blaming Tom along with all the other police officers for Dylan’s arrest.

  “Can I come in, please, Miss Greer?” Tom’s voice floated in from outside.

  “We’re really very busy right now trying to figure out how to get Dylan out of jail.”

  “I know. That’s why I want to come in.”

  Vi glanced back at Diana, who nodded her consent. Vi swung the door wide to a somber Tom Andrews dressed in his street clothes. He raised a hand in greeting.