by Morgana Best
Both detectives looked at me as if I had gone mad. Detective Barrett signalled to the van on the street, and the people in blue clothes filed up to the house. “Forensics team,” I said loudly, hoping the house would take the hint.
I tentatively unlocked the front door. I opened it and stood aside. “Come in, detectives and forensics team.”
So far so good. I’m sure the house knew better than to do anything to the police, and now the house, unless it had suddenly developed hearing problems, was aware that these people were, in fact, police officers.
Barrett cleared his throat. “I’ll wait in your living room with you, Ms Spelled, while Detective Bowes and the others search your house.”
I nodded, and sat on the sofa next to the cats. Willow opened one eye and then went back to sleep. Hawthorn didn’t even bother to do that.
“Do you normally leave your television on when you’re not home?” Barrett asked me.
I nodded. “The cats like the noise,” I lied. I had been tempted to say, “Is that a crime?” but thought the better of it.
It was one thing to have the police look through my bakery ingredients, but it was quite another thing to have them look through my personal belongings in my own home. I shuddered at the thought. I knew the house could rearrange rooms, so I only hoped the house had hidden my altars. I wasn’t ashamed of being a witch, of course, but I didn’t like the questions that it might prompt.
Suddenly, the house blared a loud rendition of Karma Chameleon. “Stop that,” I said without thinking. Barrett stared at me. “Sorry. I figured one of the officers had turned the music on loudly?”
Barrett shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Karma Chameleon suddenly stopped, but the television volume escalated. Barrett looked startled. “How did that happen?” he asked me.
“The TV is faulty,” I said. “I’ve been meaning to buy a new one for a while.” I walked over to it and made a show of turning down the volume. Of course, it made absolutely no difference. I walked back to my seat. “How long do you think they’ll be?”
Barrett raised one eyebrow. “Do you have something to hide?”
Now I was getting angry. “Of course not,” I snapped. “If I did, I would have insisted you get a warrant. It’s horrible to have someone shuffling through my personal things. Surely you can understand that.”
He simply looked at me blankly, but the television rose to full volume. It was a contestant on The Voice, rapping. Clearly, that was not to Barrett’s taste, as he stood up and walked over to the TV. He pressed the front of the TV several times. “The volume doesn’t work,” he said over his shoulder.
“I already told you that,” I said, completely devoid of sympathy. I really didn’t care if the house blew out his eardrums.
“Can’t you turn it off?” he asked me.
I shook my head. “You can’t turn it off.”
“Can’t you turn it off at the wall?” he asked me. “That is one sure way to fix it.”
“That doesn’t work either,” I said.
Barrett narrowed his eyes, but apparently decided that further talk wasn’t going to get him anywhere. After a few moments, the volume turned down and I found myself relaxing a little. One of the forensics people stuck his head around the door and beckoned to Barrett. Barrett slipped into the hall for a few moments.
When he returned, he showed me something in a plastic bag. “What’s that?”
“That’s one of my cupcakes,” I said happily.
“But it’s all black and weighs a ton,” he said.
“It’s a Halloween cupcake,” I told him, ignoring the fact that it was burnt to a crisp.
Barrett was clearly at a loss. “Oh.” He shrugged and left the room. I walked into the corridor behind him, ignoring the instructions that I was to stay in the living room, and peeked into the library. I smiled when I realised there was no door to my altar room. The house had done a good job of hiding it. I was pleased to see that no one was in my bedroom, so I walked down the corridor to see where everyone was.
I found them in the kitchen. They were taking samples of my herbs and cooking ingredients, such as flour, sugar, and the like. “Ms Spelled?”
I swung around to see Barrett standing in the doorway. “Would you accompany me outside, please?”
My heart caught in my mouth. What had he found? I hurried outside, but he simply walked into my woodshed. “Is this your only outbuilding?” he asked me.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Where do you keep your lawnmower and tools, that sort of thing?”
“I don’t have any,” I said. I could hardly explain that my deceased grandfather magically kept the lawn short. “I do have a few gardening tools in the laundry,” I told him, “but I pay someone to mow the lawn on a regular basis.”
Thankfully, he didn’t ask me for the person’s phone number, as I had made that up on the spot. “Do you pay for a storage facility in town?” he asked me.
I scrunched my face. “No, of course not. Why would I? I have plenty of room in this house to store things, as you can see. Anyway, you can easily go to all the storage facilities in town and ask them.”
“I’ll do that.”
Barrett really was the most infuriating man. While I was imagining horrible things the house could do to him, I looked past him to see Camino coming up behind the detective. Camino was wearing one of her more complicated onesies, with cobwebs between all eight legs. As she approached us, she tripped over one of her legs.
It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Camino appeared to be airborne for some time, all her spider legs waving. It was a frightening sight. She landed heavily, right on top of Barrett. He fell face first into my rosemary bushes, with Camino on his back. Barrett squirmed around trying to get free, but to no avail. I think he was yelling, but the sound was muffled.
I clutched my sides and did my best to stop laughing. Camino flailed around, so I seized one of her legs and tried to pull her off him. Finally, Bowes came to Barrett’s aid. Bowes did not even try to stop laughing. He tried to grab one of Camino’s legs, but she was kicking wildly, trying to get off Barrett.
“What do we have here?” he said between laughs.
“I’m a funnel-web spider,” Camino yelled. “A Halloween spider.”
“And a very good spider you are,” Bowes said before bursting into a fresh bout of laughter.
Bowes covered his face with one hand to protect himself from Camino’s kicks, and then made another grab for Camino’s leg. Unfortunately, he grabbed Barrett’s trouser leg, and pulled hard.
Moments later, Bowes was standing there, looking askance at the pair of trousers in his hands. It took him a few moments to realise what had happened. He rolled Camino off Barrett.
Now that Camino was clear, I stared at Barrett’s underpants. They were white, with the words, ‘It ain’t gonna spank itself’ scrawled in bright red. My mouth fell open.
Chapter 7
That evening, I stepped into Ruprecht’s shop, Glinda’s. I had been here countless times, but it always made me feel as if I’d stepped into another world, just like crossing a veil into the land of the Fae. Of course, Ruprecht wasn’t a fairy, not as far as I knew. By day, Glinda’s was simply a combination antique and bookshop, but at night it took on an entirely different atmosphere. I wouldn’t call it menacing; maybe ‘powerful’ was the right word.
I was glad that the police had not questioned me again that day. I suppose not finding anything in my shop or my house had placated them for the moment. Perhaps Barrett was simply too embarrassed to show his face. Still, apart from the woman, I was the last to see Myles alive. I wondered why everyone was so sure that he hadn’t died of natural causes.
I followed Ruprecht down the labyrinth of his shop, wending my way between the massive antiques, into his apartment at the back. His apartment was no less otherworldly than his shop. The pungent scent of sandalwood incense hit me as soon as I entered his living room, and his iPhone dock was p
laying the chiming of Tibetan singing bowls.
I did a double take when I saw Camino. This time, she was wearing a witch’s hat onesie. It was black, apart from the big red belt buckle around her waist. “I’m getting in the mood for Halloween,” she said through a hole in the top of the hat. I figured it was one of the most uncomfortable onesies I had seen her wearing, and that was saying something. The base was so broad that I thought she might be in danger of tripping again.
“Where’s Alder?” Thyme asked me.
“He said he’d be late. He’s working on a case.”
“I hope he’s working on our case, too,” Ruprecht said.
I nodded. “He’s looking for suspects.”
I sat down and looked around the room. I always loved the atmosphere here. The only light was provided by a myriad of candles flickering, throwing the shadows into shimmering relief across the walls. Some of the candles were scented—I caught the heady fragrances of amber and musk. A tall, red, glass pillar candle sat in the centre of the table. I leant across to read the label and saw that it was a Road Opener candle.
Ruprecht set down a cup of tea in front of me; I guessed peppermint due to the pungent aroma. If only he’d asked me my preferences—I could really do with some coffee right now. I turned the cup around and looked into its deep green depths. It was the same set that my mother had always liked, a Royal Albert Old Country Roses pattern, decorated with colourful roses and gold trim. I always thought tea from a pretty cup tasted nicer.
“Dawson told me he’s going to find out what the detectives really think,” Thyme offered.
I forced a smile. I didn’t really want to know what the detectives thought. I’m sure it wouldn’t be good news for me. I heard a snuffling sound and noticed Camino was struggling to speak. A piece of stiff black material had risen up to cover her mouth. Mint reached over and pulled it down.
“Thanks.” Camino adjusted the hat. “We still haven’t come up with a good idea for our Beltane celebration.”
Ruprecht waggled his finger at her. “There are more important matters afoot, my dear Camino.”
“We could wear those pumpkin onesies again,” she said thoughtfully. “I have one to fit you, Ruprecht. Remember you wore it at last year?”
He shuddered. “I do remember I wore it last year, and I also remember that it didn’t fit.”
Camino opened her mouth to say more, but two things happened. The stiff black material rose up to cover her mouth once more, and Thyme’s phone rang. “Dawson,” Thyme said. Dawson only spoke for a brief moment, and Thyme made remarks such as, “Oh dear,” “Oh!” and, “That’s not good.”
When she hung up, everyone looked at her expectantly. Thyme shook her head and avoided my eyes. “Well, it’s good news and bad news. The detectives definitely suspect Amelia, but they don’t have a motive.”
“I’m waiting for the good news,” I told her.
Thyme bit her lip. “That is the good news,” she said. “They don’t have a motive.”
Ruprecht intervened. “I think what Thyme is saying, Amelia, is that you’re a person of interest to the police, but not overly so, as they don’t have a motive.”
Thyme nodded, but I suspected that wasn’t quite the impression Dawson had given her. “There’s one more thing,” she said. “They said the symptoms are typical of strychnine poisoning. They think it was in his coffee.”
“The symptoms must be pretty bad if they were so obvious,” I said. “It must kill pretty quickly.”
Ruprecht disagreed. “Strychnine does kill quickly, but you’re assuming it was something that he consumed just before his death. For all we know it was something he ate the night before. Still, the detectives would know what they were doing, and if they say it was strychnine, then they must have good reason to do so.”
“He was drinking coffee,” I said, trying to remember. “He wasn’t eating anything. Now, I have to speak fast before Alder gets here, but I think it was Paulette Pinkerton. Don’t mention to Alder that I suspect her, because he’s one hundred percent convinced that she’s innocent. I texted him to tell him I saw her in the bank just before Myles was murdered, and he texted back that she had nothing to do with it.”
“Why do you think she’s guilty?” Camino asked me. It seemed she had momentarily won the battle with her witch hat onesie.
“Very tall, looks like a supermodel, flawless skin,” Thyme said.
I couldn’t resist a laugh. Ruprecht’s eyebrows shot skyward. “I’m afraid I don’t see the connection.”
“Thyme thinks I’m jealous of her,” I said, “and she’s probably right. I mean, she and Alder are old friends. Who wouldn’t be jealous of her?”
Thyme waved one hand at me in dismissal. “Alder only has eyes for you, Amelia. You know that.”
I shrugged. “Maybe so, but that doesn’t stop me feeling a little bit jealous. Okay, maybe a lot jealous. But I still think she did it. She was in the bank at the time, so she could have poisoned his coffee, assuming it was the coffee that killed him. And even if it wasn’t, then she had access to whatever did kill him.”
“Does she have a motive?” Ruprecht asked me.
I nodded. “Yes, only I don’t know what it is yet. I’m sure she has one, though,” I added confidently.
Ruprecht muttered to himself. I could see he didn’t share my viewpoint. He stood up suddenly, just before the door bell chimed. As he went to answer the door, I leant across to Camino, Mint, and Thyme. “Remember, not a word to Alder. I don’t want him to know I suspect his good buddy, Paulette.”
Alder swept into the room like some sort of dashing hero from an old movie. Tingles ran through me, as they always did when I saw him. There was just something about him, some commanding presence. Maybe it was because he was a Dark Witch. I was a Dark Witch too, but I doubted I held the same commanding presence. He sailed straight over and kissed me quickly, before taking a seat next to me. “I have a suspect.”
“Who is it?” I asked him, as all the others leant forward.
Ruprecht spoke before Alder could respond. “Would you like a cup of tea, Alder? Liquorice root, your favourite?”
“Yes, please.”
Ruprecht walked out of the room, and with a backward look over his shoulder, said, “Don’t tell anyone who the suspect is until I get back.”
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t like being kept in suspense, and by the looks on their faces, neither did Thyme, Camino, or Mint.
It seemed forever before Ruprecht returned with a porcelain cup and saucer. As he set it in front of Alder, Mint said, “Grandfather, that took you forever. Were you actually growing the plant?”
Ruprecht forced a laugh. “Now, Alder, please tell us. Who is your suspect?”
“Kristen Woods. She’s the ex-wife. This is what I found out. Myles and Kristen had joint access of their three children, but Myles continually petitioned the court in an attempt to gain sole access. In case you didn’t know, custody and access—same thing. The courts call it access.”
“Well, there’s a motive right there,” Thyme said.
Alder agreed. “Apparently, he’s been telling dreadful lies about her in an attempt to prove she’s an unfit mother. He said she is lazy and she’s never worked and she only wants the children so he’ll be forced to pay child support.”
I thought it over for a moment. “But many ex-partners would say that sort of thing in order to have more access to their kids. Surely the courts are used to it.”
Alder shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe so, but the court still has to follow the process. All three children are seeing a court-appointed child representative, and that makes things drag on and on. The children were so upset by it that they were seeing a therapist.”
Camino muttered something, so Mint leant over and pulled down the onesie to clear her mouth. “I’d kill him myself for upsetting the children,” she said.
“I’ll agree that it’s a strong motive,” Ruprecht said, “but that doesn’t mean that she di
d it.”
“At least we’ll have a good opportunity to speak to her tomorrow,” Alder said. “Amelia, you’re having a stall at the bake sale tomorrow?”
I nodded, wondering what that had to do with anything.
“The bank actually organised the bake sale.”
Before he could say any more, I interrupted. “Why on earth did the bank organise that bake sale?”
“The bank involves itself in several local charities,” Alder said, “and while this is not specifically a charity, it’s still community work. Kristen Woods’ best friend and next door neighbour is a woman by the name of Barbara Bracery. It stands to reason that Marina will be there tomorrow. Barbara had an extensive garden gnome collection, and someone smashed them all the other week. The bake sale is to raise funds to replace her collection.”
I smiled. “It’s the strangest reason I’ve heard for a bake sale, but then again, small country towns tend to do rather strange things, as I’ve discovered since moving here.”
Thyme looked up at me. “But surely you knew the bake sale was to replace a garden gnome collection?”
“Oh yes, I did. I just didn’t know the bank was behind it, that’s all. Shouldn’t we add this Barbara person to our list of suspects?” I asked them.
Alder shook his head. “No, she has an ironclad alibi. She broke her wrist that morning and was at the hospital having it set.”
“Since Kristen is her best friend, did you check if Kristen was at the hospital with her?” I asked Alder.
“I checked, and she was with her for a while, and then left her there. Let’s look at the suspects we have so far,” Alder said. He held up his fingers and ticked them off one by one. “One, Kristen Woods, the ex-wife. Myles was giving her a hard time over the custody battle and upsetting their children. Two, Alex Waring, the former bank teller. Myles falsely accused him, according to Marina.”
I waited for him to add Paulette Pinkerton, but when he didn’t, I thought I had best not mention her. Instead, I said, “Don’t forget that mysterious woman. She came into his office as I was leaving. Did you find out anything about her, Alder?”
