Wild Secrets (A Wilder Witch Mystery Book 3)

by Jade Wolfe

  That seemed to stump Ben for a moment, so he checked his notes again. "Oh - the back door was unlocked. I figure whoever did it escaped when they heard Dwayne’s key in the lock.” He shook his head. “It’s hard to believe - somebody snuck in here and brained that writer with a dictionary."

  Chapter Two

  Dante and I both froze.

  "Did you just say...a dictionary?" Dante asked him.

  Ben laughed. "I know - I thought it was pretty weird, too, but according to Connie you can whack somebody right here," he tapped his temple, " - and give 'em a heart attack. Crazy, huh?"

  “No way - how could you kill someone with a dictionary? It’s a book,” I said. He had to be joking. “What was it? Death by a thousand paper cuts? Alphabetical homicide?”

  It was kind of amusing, except that somebody was dead. “Maybe you should round up all the Scrabble players in town...”

  "Clover?" Dante said. "Shut up."

  He was fighting a grin.

  Connie was the county coroner. I looked around, wondering where she was, and spotted her kneeling near something that was hidden from my view. We left Ben to his scribbling and headed that way.

  Connie was a petite woman with olive skin and long, straight, black hair that was currently tucked into a tan WPD ball cap. She glanced up and smiled absently when Dante spoke her name.

  I could see what she was looking at now, and I took a step back. Jasper Davenport was a small man with a compact body. He was splayed out on the marble library tiles on his back, staring toward the vaulted ceiling with pale gray eyes that nearly matched the thatch of hair on his head. One arm was half-covering his waist and the other was flung over his head. A giant red splotch bloomed across the ashy skin of his face.

  Connie saw me move. "He's not pretty, is he?" she asked.

  I shook my head. Dante bent down beside her to look at the dead man. "Ben said he died of a heart attack?"

  She sniffed. "Technically, yes. But the heart attack was caused by that." She pointed.

  I followed her finger off to the right with my gaze, near the lectern that Jasper would presumably have been speaking at later. It was one of those heavy wooden ones that principals used in school assemblies. Beside it, on the floor, lay the famous dictionary. It was upside down and half open, and I could see the pages crushed underneath it. One corner of the spine was crushed, too, like it had been dropped on its edge.

  The thing was thicker than a shoe box and written in such tiny print that it came with its own magnifying glass. Dwayne had shown it to me when he first bought the set, less than a month ago. He had shown everybody who came into the library, actually - he treated those new reference books more like the Holy Grail than paper and cardboard. It was almost embarrassing, but also kind of wholesome and sweet. He turned into a wolverine if anyone tried to touch, though.

  From the corner of my eye, I caught a pair of shiny black shoes and looked up. Standing about two feet from the downed dictionary, wringing his hands, stood Dwayne. He was a tall black man who looked more like a boxer than a librarian, thanks to his broad shoulders and the thickest forearms I'd ever seen. He looked like he was about to cry.

  I carefully skirted the dead author’s body and went to him. "Dwayne, are you all right?" I asked, touching his arm.

  He looked up at me slowly, and there was pure sorrow in his eyes. "There is a dead man near my dictionary," he said softly. "He broke the cover."

  I blinked. "Well...I don't think he did it on purpose."

  "Who cares? I just want to know whether my book will be replaced. It was expensive." He stopped wringing his hands and covered his face. “More expensive than anything else in the library. I had to save for years to buy this set, and now...” He shook his head sadly.

  "I don't think..." I stopped. How did these things work when there was a death? "I guess you could put a request in to the man's estate? Maybe?"

  Dwayne didn't answer. He just shook his head.

  "We'll figure it out," I promised. "As soon as this mess is cleared up."

  His dark eyes found mine. "I can't even touch it. They said it was evidence now."

  I looked around, trying to think of something to make him feel better, and spotted the rest of the set on a table under the window. "You still have the others."

  He shot me a look that nearly burned. "The set is now incomplete."

  "Sorry, Dwayne." I left him to mourn and walked back to Dante, who was still chatting with Connie. I caught the end of his sentence.

  "...Found too soon?" he was asking.

  Connie nodded. "As best I can tell, whoever killed him probably sneaked in through the back door, made sure no one was here yet, and killed him with the dictionary. Or maybe the assailant didn't mean to kill him." She shrugged. "Mistakes happen in the heat of an argument."

  "You don't think Pete did it?" I piped up. Ben was an idiot, but surely the possibility had crossed Connie’s mind.

  She grimaced. "It's definitely possible, but then anyone could have done this. And he wasn’t here, according to Dwayne. They showed up at the same time." She paused. “That could mean that he was here, waiting for someone to find the body, I guess.”

  “Where is Pete now?” Dante asked.

  She pointed to a table at the other end of the long room, far away from Jasper's body. The man there was the picture of agonizing grief. He was doubled over in the floor in a black suit with his hands wrapped around his stomach. His hair was out of place and he was staring, wild-eyed, at the tiles in front of him. Ben Bridges was standing over him, looking kind of lost.

  Connie was right - the guy looked like he was in shock. Like he'd just lost his own arm.

  "I'll talk to him in a few minutes," Dante said.

  "Good luck." Connie said. "He hasn't spoken more than three words since we got here."

  Dante nodded.

  "Anyway," Connie continued. "Dwayne came in just before Pete. Pete was right behind him, and they found the body almost at the same time. Dwayne said Pete went off the rails. Like screaming and falling down and sobbing like somebody had killed him instead of Jasper here. It was so bad that Dwayne had to calm him down before he could call you guys. He was afraid Pete would hurt himself.”

  "That's crazy," I whispered, trying to picture it.

  "I know."

  Dante and I shared a glance, and I knew what he was thinking because I was thinking the same thing. It sounds like an act. Seriously, who got that upset over the death of their employer? It wasn’t like Jasper was Pete’s dad or anything.

  "Anything else?" Dante asked her.

  "Other than time of death, which was about seven a.m. this morning." She shook her head. "Somebody came in and killed Jasper, got away before Dwayne and Pete came in, and forgot to lock the back door. Nothing else that I can think of, right now. I'll know more when we get the reports back."

  “Could the back door have just been left unlocked by accident? I asked.

  “No way,” Dante said. “Think about it. Dwayne would never leave here without locking everything up tight.”

  He was right.

  Dante thanked her and led me away from the body. "What do you think?"

  "I think Dwayne is going to have an aneurysm," I said, glancing back at the big man. He was on his knees now, hovering over the dictionary, struggling to keep his hands off of it.

  "Besides that."

  "Are there any ghosts in here?" I asked. That was Dante's gift - he could see and talk to ghosts. It was a pretty cool gift, I thought. Cooler than mine, anyway. The only ghosts I could see were Aunt Sage and my mother, and both of them were trying to run my life.

  Dante shook his head. "Not right now. The crowd probably drove them away. A few hang out here on normal days, but they are ancient. Later on, if I can get some alone time in here, I'll ask them if they saw anything."

  "When I see Sage again, I'll ask her if she can help. Maybe she knows a ghost that saw something, or maybe she can hear this guy." According to Sage, murd
er victims sometimes got trapped in a sort of membrane between worlds whenever they met with a violent death - unable to move around freely on this plane, or to move forward into the new one. If they remained trapped for too long, the membrane sapped all their cosmic energy or something, and they just...dissolved? I wasn’t clear on that part, because Aunt Sage was hard to pin down and she hated explaining things.

  I was beginning to think that the folks here in town were right in their belief that my family was off the rails crazy.

  Dante nodded. Then he motioned toward the main doors. "I need you to leave now, Clover."

  "Why?"

  "I need to interview Pete, and before you ask - no, you can't help."

  I frowned and put my hands on my hips. "Why not? He doesn't know if I'm a cop or not."

  "Everyone else knows." His eyebrows came up. "Look at Ben.”

  I looked. Ben had put his notepad away. He was standing with his hands on his hips, staring at us.

  “Come on, Clover. I promise I'll tell you everything later. Just...go home."

  I didn't like it, but I couldn't think of a good reason to stay, so I gave him a look. "Fine."

  "And stay out of trouble, please," he added.

  "I don't know what that means," I said.

  "Exactly." He grinned and pointed toward the door.

  Instead of going, I bent down to fiddle with my boot, just to show him he wasn't the boss of me. Then I adjusted my jacket and pulled a hair band from my purse and put my longish hair into a ponytail.

  He wasn't buying it, though. He didn't move from his spot until I ran out of excuses and left.

  I passed Dale on the sidewalk. The crowd under his control had grown a little as word spread about the heinous act inside the library. I could almost hear the phone lines buzzing. News traveled fast around here.

  Dale watched me closely as I walked by, but he didn't say anything. I desperately wanted to walk up to him and just say, "Boo!"

  I doubted he'd get the joke, though, so I didn't. Instead, I headed back across the bridge, toward the antique store. The book signing was definitely canceled, so I wanted to grab that signed copy of Jasper Davenport's book for Dad. He would like it.

  As it turned out, there was a bit of a crowd at Bagly's place, too. Not because a murder had happened, but because one was about to happen.

  At least he hadn't had my truck towed.

  Inside, Bagly looked up in surprise. “Back so soon?” he asked.

  “Yes, but not for the urn. You had some books on the shelf I want.”

  He smiled. “I think you’re too late,” he said, nodding in the direction of the bookshelf.

  I heard a shout and spun around to see the book I’d come for - I recognized its shiny blue cover - locked in the grasp of two women. One of the women was very young, with curly red hair to her waist, a lot of makeup, and enough sparkling jewelry to sink the Titanic. She reminded me of the old actress Bernadette Peters.

  The other woman was older and elegantly dressed in a pantsuit, but she had a meanness around her eyes that was hard to miss, as if life hadn’t turned out exactly the way she planned and she was bitter about it.

  They were tugging it back and forth, both of them grasping the book so hard I thought it might rip apart any second. They were glaring into each other’s eyes, unaware of anyone else in the place.

  “He was my husband, you little tramp,” the older woman growled. “Get your nasty little paws off it.”

  The younger woman didn’t even blink. “You should have taken better care of him, then,” she said.

  The older woman looked ready to kill. “Excuse me,” I said, hoping to diffuse the situation a little. “I’d like to look at that book, if you two are just going to fight over it.”

  The older woman stood up tall and turned her glare on me. “This book was written by my husband,” she said, giving it a good yank. “It’s mine.”

  “You’re married to Jasper Davenport?” I asked. “Er, were married?”

  “Yes,” she hissed, turning her attention back to the young redhead.

  “Not anymore,” the redhead shot back. “Isn’t that right, Lavinia? You probably had him killed.”

  Not much grieving going on here. “And who are you?” I asked, shifting my gaze to the younger woman.

  “His assistant. My name is Bess Gabriel. I helped him with every single one of his books,” she answered proudly.

  “You distracted him with your-.”

  “Uh,” I broke in. “Why are you fighting? Don’t you both have access to his books? I mean, don’t writers have boxes of them at home?”

  The redhead sniffed and flipped her long hair over her shoulder. “He burned them,” she said. “Told me that it was bad luck to keep them.”

  “Wow.”

  “He was wise like that.”

  “Ignorant, you mean,” Lavinia Davenport said. “Those books would be worth a fortune right now.”

  She was probably right, and I got the feeling it was the exact reason they were fighting over this one now. “Was Mr. Davenport having money issues?” I asked.

  “No - he was doing quite well.” She looked at me, realizing that she was answering the questions of a complete stranger. “Who are you?” she asked.

  I shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. “Just curious. My dad loves his books.”

  “You aren’t a reporter?”

  I shook my head, glancing over to make sure Bagly was still around. The irritation was rolling off her in waves, and she looked ready to kill someone.

  The thought crossed my mind that maybe she already had.

  Bess Gabriel seemed more amused than anything, now that the argument had died down, and I wondered if Lavinia’s accusations were correct. “So can I buy the book?” I asked.

  They both gripped it tighter, until the widow Davenport took a swipe at Bess’s eyes with her long, perfectly manicured nails. Bess gasped and ducked, letting go to avoid the claws.

  “Now,” Lavinia said, her gaze icy, “Leave me alone. You’re fired.”

  “You didn’t hire me, you idiot,” Bess countered, lunging for the book again and knocking several other books to the floor.

  “I know. You came with the estate. So I’m firing you.”

  Bagly must have had enough, because the next thing I knew he was reaching past me. He plucked the book from the crook of Lavinia’s arm. “I’ll take that, and I want you both to leave,” he said, his voice stern. “Or I’ll call the cops.”

  “You can’t take that away from me!” she screeched, curling the hair on my arms.

  He didn’t even turn around on his way back to the front. “It’s my store, and you’re both a public nuisance. Get out.”

  Bess Gabriel didn’t have to be told twice. I watched her turn, make her way down the aisles and through the door, wondering if I’d ever seen anybody flounce before this moment. She was definitely doing it. Her final glance in Bagly’s direction told me that she would be back for the book. Maybe soon. Bagly pretended not to notice.

  Lavinia Davenport wasn’t about to leave so easily. She set her sights on Bagly’s back and marched toward the register, where he was putting the book behind the sales counter. I caught up with her halfway there. “Would you like to get some coffee?” I asked. “Maybe calm down a little?”

  “No, I would like to buy that book and go home.”

  “He won’t sell it to you right now, I’m afraid.” I held out my hand and motioned toward the door. “He’s stubborn like that. Let me buy you a coffee.”

  Chapter Three

  She stopped walking, looked at Bagly, then looked back at me. Her shoulders drooped, and suddenly she was a completely different woman than the fiery wife I’d met a few minutes ago. She was...broken.

  Tears sparkled in her eyes. “I think I’d like that,” she whispered.

  With a smile and nod to Bagly, who winked to let me know that he would do whatever he could to save the book for me, I led her outside into the bright
afternoon light. We made our way to Lacy Day’s, the only diner in town with decent coffee.

  After we slid into our seats and ordered coffee from Cassandra, the young waitress, I asked Lavinia what the fight had been about. Not that I didn’t have an idea, but I wanted to hear it, just to be sure.

  “She told me this morning that she’s been sleeping with Jasper,” Lavinia whispered dejectedly, rubbing her hands on her crossed arms. “It was...not a shock, exactly. But still painful.”

  She reached for the coffee cup and held onto it so tightly I thought she might crush it. Her makeup was smudged under her eyes, and her hair was a silvery mess, but I didn’t think she cared right now.

  “I’m sorry. That must have hurt.” I answered. “Why would she tell you that, even if it was true?”

  “Because she’s a little brat.” Lavinia’s eyes flashed.

  “Did you know? Before today, I mean?”

  She shook her head. “I suspected, but then all wives do, don’t they? When their husbands work closely with a younger woman?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been married.”

  “Lucky you,” she muttered.

  I didn’t know what to say to that, but I kind of agreed with her. “Was he a good husband, though? Before that, I mean?”

  She considered this. “Jasper was a driven man. When he was writing a book, he traveled all over the world, researching settings and finding out about the local culture. He wanted everything to be perfect, you see. That’s why he was at the library this morning - making sure everything was set up properly before his appearance tonight.” She looked at me. “I seldom went with him on his travels. My own work kept me busy.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I was a doctor, until I retired last year. A pediatrician.”

  I tried to imagine the angry woman in Bagly’s store treating young children and suppressed a shudder. “Oh.”

  “We grew apart, and after a while I barely saw him at all, you see. I came with him this time because he was supposed to announce his retirement at the awards ceremony. He promised that we could spend more...” She sniffed. “...Time together now.”