by Morgana Best
He shook his head. “I couldn’t find anyone who had seen her.”
I shook my head. “She was wearing gloves, for goodness’ sake. Who wears gloves these days? And I don’t mean the woolly gloves that everyone wears in winter—I mean those elegant white gloves like you see in old movies.”
“Are there any other suspects so far?” Ruprecht prompted him.
Alder shook his head. “No.”
I plucked up my nerve and asked. “What about Paulette Pinkerton?” I asked in a small voice.
Alder tensed beside me. “She’s not a suspect.” His tone was firm.
Thyme and I exchanged glances. When I had asked Alder if she was an old girlfriend, he had denied it. Why was he so sure she wasn’t a suspect if he didn’t have feelings for her? He was usually a logical person. Was there something he wasn’t telling me?
Chapter 8
I got out of my car and stared at the large park in front of me. It was the middle of spring, but even that was not enough to prevent a heavy overnight frost in Bayberry Creek. I pulled my scarf more tightly around my neck and adjusted my fingerless gloves. Wood smoke was hanging heavily over the park. To those unfamiliar with valleys in towns full of wood fires, it could be mistaken for a heavy mist.
“It will clear up when the sun reaches it,” Thyme said, pointing to the heavy layer of frost under all the trees.
I shivered by way of response. The reason for my melancholy was not only the cold; it was also the fact that Alder’s attitude to me had been a little strange, ever since Paulette Pinkerton had come to town. It was a slight change, but it was a change, nonetheless. Since our relationship had deepened, I sometimes stayed over at his place, and sometimes he stayed over at mine, but the sleepover at my place the previous night had not happened. He said he had too much work. That had never happened before, so it set off alarm bells.
“Are you okay?” Thyme asked, peering into my face.
“Sure,” I said, trying to sound as if I meant it. I didn’t want to verbalise my fears to Thyme in case it somehow made them manifest. In an attempt to deflect Thyme in case she probed, I added, “Do you really think we can find out anything about Kristen? After all, we can hardly just march up to her and ask if she killed her ex-husband.”
“We’re here at the bake sale anyway,” Thyme said with a shrug of one shoulder, “and since the bank is running the bake sale, there will be some bank employees here. The subject of Myles will come up naturally, so we can take advantage of any conversation.”
I nodded. “That’s true.”
“Amelia, you sure you’re okay? You’re acting bit distracted.”
“I’m tired,” I said, and that was the truth, as I had tossed and turned all night wondering what was going on with Alder. “Anyway, we should find out where our stall is before we get the cupcakes out of the car.”
We walked through the park to seek out someone in charge. I looked at the half dead plants in the garden beds, and wondered why the council would plant such flowers when they knew the frost would kill them. Maybe a native garden would have been a far better choice.
Thyme echoed my thoughts. “I don’t know why they bother with all those little flowers that die every winter,” she said. “Magnolias grow beautifully in this area. Why don’t they have those? And camellias and azaleas do well here, too. Not those flowers.” She pointed to some brown plants that were dead, and appeared to have been so for some time.
I nodded. “I was just thinking that. Okay, there’s a woman with a clipboard. Let’s ask her.”
The woman with the clipboard was speaking to two other women, but as we approached, the two women walked away. “Are you one of the stall holders?” the woman with the clipboard asked us.
I nodded. “I’m Amelia Spelled, and this is Thyme. We’re from Flour Power, the cupcake shop.” I grimaced when I said the name of the shop. I had been meaning to change the name ever since I had arrived in town, although I hadn’t managed to come up with anything better. I usually had to spell the name for people as they generally assumed the bakery flour of the name was the garden flower, and there was nothing in the name to indicate that we sold cupcakes.
The woman beamed at us. “It’s so generous of you to give of your time, and donate your cupcakes. I’m Kristen Woods, the coordinator.”
I hoped I hadn’t gasped, but I heard myself take a short breath. I studied the woman carefully. She certainly didn’t look upset, but I supposed if had I been in her position, I would have been celebrating. I had no idea Kristen was here in an official capacity. I was wondering how to bring up the subject of her husband, when she spoke again. “That’s your table right there.” She pointed to a table that mercifully was out in the sun. “If you’ll excuse me, I had better speak to these people.” And with that, she was off.
“What you think of that?” I asked Thyme, as we both headed back to my car to fetch the trays of cupcakes.
“I must admit I’m relieved,” she said. “I was worried she would give us a table under a tree, and then all the frost on the tree would melt and drip down on us like icy water.”
I shook my head. “No, Thyme. I mean, don’t you think it’s strange that she’s coordinating this bake sale on behalf of the bank, given that her husband worked at the bank? After all, they were deadly enemies.”
“Not really,” Thyme said. “Did he have anyone who wasn’t a deadly enemy? She probably still has friends at the bank.”
I nodded slowly. “I wonder if she was in it with someone else? We’ll have to try to speak to her again. I was going to mention her husband, but then she left.”
I unlocked the car, and Thyme and I loaded ourselves up with trays of cupcakes. “At least we have an opportunity to speak with her now,” Thyme said. “It would have been harder if she was just attending and not doing anything official.”
It didn’t take us long to set up our stall. After all, we were old hands at this sort of thing. The town was quite fond of bake sales for community events. Thankfully, one of the stalls was a coffee van, and I knew that they served good coffee. “Thyme, would you like some coffee? I’ll just pop over and get one for both of us.”
Thyme nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, please!”
I had paid for our coffee and was on my way back, when I saw the mysterious woman. To my surprise, she was still wearing the same clothes, hat, gloves, and all. I ducked behind a tree and waited until she had crossed to the other side of the park. When I thought it was safe, I skirted around a line of trees and hurried back to Thyme. “Thyme, it’s that woman!” I blurted out.
Thyme’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What woman?”
“That woman I told you about. She’s gone over there, and she’s wearing the same clothes that she was wearing the other day, even the gloves and hat—the whole thing. It’s strange because she’s wearing summer clothes, and it’s freezing.”
Thyme looked around. “I can’t see her.”
“She went over there, in the direction of the caravan park. Here, take your coffee. Do you want to see if you can find her?”
“Sure.”
After Thyme left, I arranged the cupcakes into an attractive display, and set out the prices clearly. I had almost finished my coffee when she returned. “Did you see her?” I asked her.
“Yes, and she sure is dressed strangely.”
I thought long and hard. “Thank goodness! For a minute, I thought I was imagining her, or that I was the only one who could see her.”
“You said the bank guy saw her.”
I shrugged. “Yes, but when I thought about it later, I thought it might have been because he was about to die.”
Thyme clutched your throat. “I hope I’m not about to die!”
I groaned. “Of course you’re not. What did she do?”
Thyme pulled a face. “Nothing really. She was just walking around aimlessly, looking at things.”
“What do you mean?”
Thyme shrugged. “It’s just that s
he was walking around like she was a tourist or something, really surprised by everything and looking shocked.”
I agreed. “I thought she was a tourist, too, but I don’t know why she latched onto me and wanted to ask me questions.”
Thyme looked behind me. “Oh no. Don’t look now.”
I immediately looked over my shoulder. The woman was headed straight for me. I wondered whether I should hurry away, but I figured I didn’t have the time.
The woman walked straight up to me. “What was your name again?”
“Amelia Spelled.”
She laughed, rather an unkind, even malicious laugh. “I can see the family resemblance.”
“Did you know my Aunt Angelica?” I asked her.
She smirked at me. “Only for a short time. Do you know who I am?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m sorry. I’ve only been in Bayberry Creek for a little over a year.”
That seemed to surprise the woman. Finally, she spoke. “Do you know about your heritage?”
“Heritage?” I echoed. I wasn’t sure what she meant.
The woman crossed her arms over her chest and looked decidedly displeased. “I assume you know you’re a Dark Witch?”
I gasped.
“You don’t look overly shocked, so I’ll take that as a yes,” she said. “Are you a namby-pamby witch, like your grandmother?”
I didn’t know how to respond. The woman pushed on. “And is this lady here your assistant?”
I looked at Thyme. Her jaw was hanging open, so I spoke for her. “Yes.”
“And are you a skilled witch?” she asked me.
“I’m still learning,” I told her.
She gave me a nod of approval. “Good answer. Witches are always learning. Someone who thinks they know it all is in trouble. Do you still have your grandmother’s cats? They were good familiars, wasted on her. And such silly names, Willow and Hawthorn.”
I realised my mouth was hanging open, so I shut it. My Willow and Hawthorn belonged to my grandmother? Surely not. I had been told my grandmother passed away a long time ago, and cats can’t live that long. Maybe it was a family tradition to continue the same name.
“Who is this handsome man approaching?”
She hadn’t turned around at all, so I wondered how she had seen Alder. Alder crossed to us in a few short strides. “This lady here knew my Aunt Angelica,” I told him.
I noticed he managed to hide his surprise at meeting the mysterious woman well. “Alder Vervain,” he said to her.
Her expression was one of absolute shock. “Did you say Vervain?”
Alder’s face was still a mask. “Yes.”
She laughed, but it came out more as a cackle, the sort of laugh that a Hollywood witch would make. “Does your family know you’re a Dark Witch?”
Alder started, but recovered his composure quickly. Thyme and I both gasped. “Did you know his family?” I asked her.
She threw her cigarette on the dirt and ground it with her elegant shoe. “Thoroughly nasty people, but not very bright and so easily led.” She laughed.
The woman had not told us her name, and there was an aura of power about her. I didn’t know if she posed any danger to us. If only Ruprecht had been here to meet her. “I saw you at the bank the other day,” I began, but she interrupted me.
Her eyes narrowed. “What of it?”
“Shortly after I left the bank, that man was found dead, murdered.”
She raised her eyebrows in a look of surprise. I couldn’t tell whether it was genuine surprise. “Why should I be interested in that?” she said in a haughty tone.
“The police are looking for you. They want to question you,” I said.
She laughed again. “Let them look.”
“There they are now,” Thyme said before I could stop her.
I could see the two detectives getting out of the car in the nearby car park.
When I turned back to the woman, she had gone. “Where did she go?” Alder said.
“She must have ducked behind that row of trees, but I didn’t even notice her move,” Thyme said.
A cold shiver ran up my spine.
Chapter 9
I looked around the park. People were arriving in droves, all rugged up in scarves and gloves. I figured the coffee van would do a roaring trade.
“I don’t suppose she gave you her name, by any chance?” Alder asked us.
Thyme and I shook our heads. “She knew I was a Dark Witch,” I told him. “She gives me the creeps.”
Alder scanned the area. “There’s certainly no sign of her now. I’ll see what I can find out. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t dreadfully concerned.”
“It’s weird that she’s wearing the same clothes that she was wearing the other day,” I said.
Alder frowned. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “I’m absolutely positive. And how did she know we were Dark Witches? It’s all quite unsettling.”
Alder agreed. “I have to go, but I’ll see what I can find out about her.” He kissed me briefly on the cheek and then strode away.
I stole a glance at Thyme to see if she thought his behaviour strange, but if she did, she didn’t comment on it. Still, there wasn’t anything tangible about the way he was acting. It was just a feeling I had.
“Um, Amelia,” Thyme said.
I looked up. “What?” She didn’t have a chance to respond, because the detectives appeared in front of us.
“What are you doing here?” Detective Barrett said.
I bit back an acid response. What did he think I was doing here? I was obviously selling cupcakes, given that I was standing behind a table filled with cupcakes with prices on them. I forced myself to take a deep breath and count to five. “I’m selling cupcakes for the bake sale,” I said slowly and carefully. “As you know, I own a cupcake shop and I volunteered to sell them to raise money for the bake sale.”
Barrett crossed his arms over his chest. “How altruistic of you.”
I looked at him to see if he was being sarcastic, but I couldn’t tell. I was surprised he didn’t act the least embarrassed. I would certainly be embarrassed if someone had seen me in my underwear. I tried to think of something witty and cutting to say that would allude to his recent state of undress, but “Bottoms up!” “I hope you won’t be caught with your pants down!” was the best I could do, so I stayed silent.
Detective Bowes simply smiled and nodded at me. “Lovely cupcakes you have here.” With that, they both walked away, leaving me to heave a big sigh of relief.
Thyme lightly patted me on my back. “See! That wasn’t so bad, was it? I really don’t think they suspect you any more. I think that detective has his eye on you, and I don’t mean as a suspect. ”
“I hope so. Oh, I mean I hope they don’t see me as a suspect. And I’m sure you’re wrong about Detective Bowes. I think they’re just playing Good Cop, Bad Cop. Maybe they’re here to check out Kristen Woods.”
Thyme agreed. “Considering the bank is sponsoring this event, they should have a plethora of suspects milling around. After all, the bank people worked with Myles.” Her phone made a sound. “It’s from Dawson,” she said.
“Is it about the murder?”
Thyme read the text, nodding as she did so. After she replied to Dawson, she said, “Forensics came back conclusively that it was strychnine.”
“That should help narrow it down,” I said. “Surely that stuff isn’t readily available to the public. That will certainly help the detectives.”
We had no chance to discuss it further, because a crowd of people suddenly arrived at our stall. One person bought all the red velvet cupcakes, and another bought more than half of the pumpkin cupcakes with chocolate tombstones on the top. “I’ll have to pop back to the shop and get more,” I told Thyme.
“Amelia, have you lost your mind? Just how much do you want to donate to this woman’s garden gnome fund?”
I shrugged. “What goes around comes around. I ca
n afford it, so I like to help out. Besides, if we sell out, we won’t have an excuse to keep an eye on suspects. Do you think you can manage by yourself?”
Thyme nodded. “The customers seem to come in waves, so if you go now I should be right. Hurry back, though.”
I promised I would. “If you get a chance, could you google strychnine? Find out where people can get it. You know, like is it in rat poison or could it be lying around old farms, that sort of thing. Remember our experience with thallium?”
“Speaking of rats,” Thyme hissed, as Kayleen walked over to the table.
“Do you have any diet cupcakes?” she asked me. “Your cupcakes are full of calories.”
“No,” I said. “If you don’t like cupcakes, maybe you could eat carrots.”
Kayleen threw her head back and laughed. She reminded me of a horse. Maybe she would go for the carrot idea, after all. “Okay, I’ll have five of those chocolate chip cookie dough cupcakes.”
I bagged them and handed them to her, and then gave her the change.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” She slapped herself on her forehead. “Did you know you have a stalker?”
“A stalker?” I parroted.
Kayleen nodded. “I’m not at all nosy, you know, so I don’t like to spread gossip.”
I dug my little fingernail under my thumbnail, hoping that the pain would take away my strong urge to laugh.
Kayleen pushed on. “I’ve seen a woman outside your house a few times, and she was staring at your house. She just stands there. I drove to town yesterday afternoon and she was standing at your fence looking in, and when I drove back, she was still standing in the same place.”
“Have you seen her in my yard?” I asked her.
Kayleen shook her head. “No. She’s weird, with a hat and gloves and all. They say insanity runs in the family. Would she happen to be a relative of yours, Amelia?”
I shrugged, and decided not to respond to Kayleen’s jab. “I have no idea who she is.” I wasn’t at all surprised—as soon as Kayleen said I had a stalker, I knew it was the mysterious woman. “Have you ever seen her around town before?”
