by Amy Boyles
I laughed bitterly. “Yeah, for once it wasn’t us. Imagine that.” I folded my arms. “So. What were you going to tell me earlier? About the name?”
Sera shook her head. “Not here. Let’s go grab a bite and take it upstairs. I think Reid’s going to want to tell you herself.”
The grand ballroom had been set up with a buffet. We made a plate for ourselves and a couple for our family. I tucked a sweet tea into the crook of my arm. I couldn’t wait to drink it. The castle staff seriously made some awesome sweet tea—just sweet enough to rot your teeth.
My kind of drink.
I juggled the plates and drinks to open the door. I found Grandma trying on different colored scarves while Milly and Reid poured over the little black book.
“We brought food,” Sera said.
Grandma tossed a scarf on the floor and picked up another one—grape colored. “So what do you think? Was Em trying to break Roman out?”
I shifted a plateful of chicken and green beans onto a table. “I don’t know. I guess I took her at face value.” I frowned. “How do you know about that?”
Grandma wove a peach-colored scarf around the purple one. “Because I’m a witch, Dylan. And when you’re a witch, you know things.”
“Things like whether or not the Queen of the South was trying to break Roman out of jail?”
Grandma nodded. “Exactly, things like that.”
Sera tossed a couple of napkins on the table. “I don’t know. Seems like she has some annoying dogs who like to do the wrong things.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, that’s what I think, too. Reid, Sera said you had something you wanted to share.”
Reid’s gaze fluttered to me. “Yeah. I think I’ve figured out that one name.”
“Just that one?” I said.
Reid chewed the butt of her pencil for a moment. “Yeah. It’s a name that appears over and over. Just keeps coming up. First name is Maple.”
I rolled that over in my brain. “Honey, sugar, Maple. You’re sure that’s the name?”
She nodded. “Yep. Positive.”
I glanced at Milly. “You know a Maple?”
Milly shook her head. “Not a one. I may not be the person to ask. Roman would be the best person in that case.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ve been able to ask him a couple of things, but I don’t know about this. Security is going to be tight. Maybe someone else would know.”
“Like who?” Sera said.
I clicked my tongue in thought and cocked my head. “Someone who knows an awful lot about security and who doesn’t happen to be here.”
“Who would that be?”
“Nan,” I said.
Nan had been terribly ill and had stayed home the day of my wedding. She’d wanted to come, and I’d wanted her there, but when you’ve got a fever of 101 degrees Fahrenheit, it’s best you stay in bed and not spread the germs around.
I hate to be all Type A about something like that, but I didn’t want to be sick for my honeymoon. If I ever got a chance to go on it, that was.
“Okay, let’s call Nan.”
Grandma flicked her hands toward the wall. Silver rings jingled and jangled as her fingers wiggled. The cream-colored wall misted up. It looked like a fog had pushed through the wall and managed to form a perfect square, reminding me of a television.
Grandma blew a long breath. The mist streaked into cottony wisps. The plume cleared, revealing Nan lying in her bed. The covers were pulled up to her chin.
I glanced at Grandma. “Have you been checking on her?”
Grandma nodded. “Her temperature’s been 96.4 for two days. She’s just like a man, whines when she doesn’t feel well. Wants everyone to baby her and make chicken soup.”
I cringed. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. Ask her.”
Nan’s feeble voice broke through the silence. “Yes?” She sounded like an old woman pushing a walker down a nursing home hallway that smelled like tinkle.
Yes, I use the word tinkle. Sue me.
“You feeling better, Nan?”
Nan inhaled deeply. She produced a digital thermometer from under her thigh and plugged her ear. She tapped a button. A few seconds later a bleep sounded and Nan checked the screen.
“It’s 96.4.”
Grandma smirked. “What did I say?”
“Did you leave her any chicken soup? She looks terrible.”
Nan threw her legs over the couch and sat up. “Let me at ’em, Dylan. I’ll get ’em. I’ll take anyone out you wan—” Her voice trailed off into a hacking cough.
“Do we need to send a doctor? I’m sure Dr. Spell wouldn’t mind making a house call.”
Nan nodded. “That would be nice. But how’re you? How’s married life?”
I rubbed the back of my forearm over my head. “Well, here’s the thing.” And I spent fifteen minutes relaying everything that had happened. With every sentence I felt my shoulders bunch up, my stomach knot and all hope crumble like a piece of burnt paper.
“That’s a terrible start to married life—and you’re not even married,” Nan said after I finished.
“I know. So we’re looking for a killer. We need to help Roman, and we’re tracking down clues. One of the things we have is Angelique Kiln’s black book. It was encoded, but it looks like Reid has broken it.”
Nan’s gaze shifted to my baby sister. “Great job, Reid. You should work in law enforcement.”
Reid fist bumped the air. “Thanks!”
I took control of the conversation again. “It looks like one of the names in the book is Maple. Do you know a Maple?”
“Hmm. Let me see… Yes, there was a Maple Bradford. Years ago she was arrested for working with Angelique on a job. I believe Miss Kiln was supposed to impersonate Maple’s boss and steal a large sum of money. Well, the theft went wrong and the man died. It wouldn’t have been so bad for Maple if she hadn’t been linked to Miss Kiln for several other crimes—other small-scale robberies.”
Nan sipped what looked like hot tea before continuing. “Maple went to prison for several years. She was already an older woman when she went to prison, and the life didn’t suit her at all. Only lasted about five years before her health deteriorated to the point where they released her. She has a son, if I remember correctly, though I’m not sure what happened to him. He didn’t go into the family business from what I understand, though he could’ve changed his name.”
“But you don’t know who he is?”
Nan shook her head. “No. And he’d be older. Maple was well into her seventies when she was arrested.”
“And who arrested her?”
Nan smirked. “Haven’t you guessed? Roman arrested her.”
Well, that was interesting. So we had a connection to the Maple Bradford from the book and Angelique, and Roman. But there wasn’t anything that tied the current situation to Maple.
“Where is Maple now?”
Nan set her tea on the table. “At home, I assume. But where that is, I don’t know.”
“So there’s no way Maple is here at the castle somehow?”
Nan laughed. “Goodness, no. Security would never allow it.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Just one more thing before you go.”
“What’s that?”
“Know of a way we can find a picture of her?”
Nan pulled the blanket to her chin. “Milly will be able to get that for you. She has access to all sorts of castle archives. Now I believe I need some rest. If I’m going to protect you girls and stay in tip-top shape, I need to get better.”
Milly caned over to me. “We’ll send Dr. Spell to take a look at you.”
“Thank you,” Nan said.
The screen blipped off. I turned to my family. “Does this even help us?”
Sera picked a green bean from a plate and chewed on it. “I doubt it. Maple isn’t here.”
I turned to Milly. “Can you show me a picture of her?”
Milly twisted her
cane to the right. “What can’t I show you here, toots? The castle is your oyster.”
A smile tugged my lips. “Thanks.”
We left the room and wandered down the hall. “Let’s take the elevator.”
I blinked. “There’s an elevator in Castle Witch?”
Milly barked a laugh. “Course. Too many old folks for there not to be. I’ll show you.”
The elevator was hidden behind a dark panel of wall. Milly thumbed her nose, and the panel slid to the side, revealing silver doors.
“Well, I’ll be,” I said. “But it takes magic to open it.”
“You got it.”
We got on and listened to instrumental music for our ride down to the first floor. A bell dinged, the doors slid open and I followed Milly to a room tucked in the back of one of the wings. It was decorated in red carpet with crimson on the bottom half of the walls, and red chairs and couches. White and gold accents took up the top half of the room, which broke up the bloody hue of the rest of the chamber.
“What’s this room?” I said. “I’ve never been in it before.”
“It’s a research room. Lots of old books. Different from the library, but not by much. It was my private resting room when I was queen.”
I balked. “How could you rest with all this red?”
Milly shrugged. “It’s called closing your eyes.”
I smirked and followed her to a corner lined with old tomes. “I think one of the books should be in here.” Milly thumbed through the bindings. “Yes, here it is.”
I helped her pull it from a shelf and laid it on a table. The binding cracked as she peeled back the cover. “I know there’s a picture of Maple in here. Let me see if I can find it.”
“What is this book?”
“It goes over the history of the year she was arrested and should have her image.” Milly thumbed through for several minutes before finding what she was looking for. “There it is.”
My gaze flickered to an image of an older woman’s mug shot. Her hair skewed around her head, giving her a crazed look.
She wore a pendant on a chain around her neck. It was a square amethyst with pearls clustered around the stone. It looked familiar. I knew I’d seen it somewhere before, but I couldn’t think of where.
“So that’s her?” I said.
Milly nodded. “That’s her. That’s Maple.”
“She looks like a kindly old lady except for the crazy-looking hair.”
Milly snorted. “She could be, from what I understand, though I never knew her.”
She closed the book, and we left the room. I was still trying to piece together where I’d seen that amethyst, racking my brain, when I saw Reid running down the corridor.
She reached us, out of breath and her chest heaving.
“What is it?” I said. “What’s going on?”
She folded in half, sucking in a deep shot of air before rising. “It’s Roman.”
I curled my fingers around her arm. My heart jumped to my mouth. “What is it?”
Fear shone in her eyes when she said, “They’ve officially charged him. Pearbottom’s moving him to jail.”
CHAPTER 20
I found Pearbottom dragging Roman down the front steps of Castle Witch. The entire congregation of people who were supposed to have been attending my second wedding stood gaping along the sides.
Roman’s head hung to his chest. My heart beat and lurched as anger and sadness washed over me.
I leaped down the steps and threw myself in front of Pearbottom. “You can’t do this, Jonathan. You can’t take him. You can’t.”
Tears sprung into my eyes, and I could feel the gurgle and bubble as a well of emotion geysered in my chest.
“I have to, Dylan,” Pearbottom said. “Roman is under arrest.”
I reached for Roman. His green eyes were dark and murky, holding on to an eternity of regret and longing. “They’ll find out who did this,” he said.
I took his face in my hands. My fingers brushed the scruff of his cheeks as I pressed my forehead to his lips. “I will get you out of this.”
“It’s not your job,” he murmured.
“Yes. It. Is.” I threaded my fingers through his short hair and swallowed the hiccup of despair that knotted my throat.
Pearbottom hauled Roman away, jerking him from my grasp. “Let’s go.”
I seethed as they walked to the middle of the courtyard. Pearbottom nodded to Em, who shot me an apologetic look. She raised her hands. A silvery swirl of magic misted around the detective and Roman. A moment later they vanished.
My world imploded. I saw my family around me, heard their voices, felt their hands on my arms, but it was as if I was a ghostly image and I couldn’t be touched. As close as they were to me, it was if they existed on the opposite side of the universe.
I felt completely alone. I shoved past my family, running back inside the castle.
What could I do? Where could I go? What could I find that could save Roman?
I decided to go back to the beginning. I rushed up the stairs, back to the open library where Angelique had plummeted to her death. I crossed the police line tape and stood in the middle of the room.
Rows of shelves, furniture and the open balcony all greeted me. There was a story within this room, and I intended to find out what it was. It was here. I just had to find it.
“Okay. Roman stood about here,” I said, gesturing in the space. “Which means Angelique would’ve been about there.”
But after they had the argument, Roman would’ve walked out of the room with his back turned. Angelique would have been standing near the balcony. I walked toward the ledge and faced the room. My gaze drifted back and forth, trying to see what it was that nobody else had seen.
After all, Roman’s life depended on it.
And all that surrounded me were books. Just books.
And then to my right, peeking from the corner of one of the books, I noticed a bit of wood sticking from the wall.
“Now, what is that?”
I pecked at it with my finger. The edge was jagged, and as I applied pressure to it, the wedge slipped.
The wall opened with a rumble as a panel slid on a well-oiled track. A cavernous space lay behind the wall.
I grasped my cheeks. “A secret passageway.”
I ducked my head in enough to realize that there was enough light to see cobwebs at the very top of the corridor. But where the stone steps wound down, there weren’t any, which suggested someone had recently used this passageway.
Was it possible? Was it really possible that someone came up from the bottom of this corridor, slid open the door and while Roman’s back was turned, pushed Angelique off the balcony? Had the whole thing been planned from the beginning?
I didn’t know, but I sure as heck was about to find out. Y’all know that a Southern woman on a rampage is not someone to fool with, and I was not about to be fooled with.
My fiancé was getting carted off to jail for a murder he didn’t commit, and his dead ex-girlfriend had showed up the day of my wedding.
I’d had it. I was at the end of my rope. And someone was going to pay.
I crept down the passageway. It didn’t take long to reach the bottom. A slice of light penetrated a small missing brick. It offered enough glow for me to notice another wedge. I pulled it and another, smaller door opened.
Hopefully no one would be standing on the other side ready to kill me.
When it slid all the way, I found the hallway empty.
I found myself on the first floor in a wing of the castle that I had visited for the first time recently. As my gaze soaked in the wooden door before me, several thoughts ran through my mind. The first was—had the person on the opposite side slipped up that passageway?
The other thought was—and had they committed murder?
I knocked. No answer. It was locked.
Several months ago I had been taught how to unlock doors by my grandmother. Clearly her influence was sha
ky in terms of whether it was positive or negative. Let’s face it, unlocking doors where I’m not invited isn’t a good habit to get into.
However, solving murders is a great habit to get into.
I floated my hand over the lock and focused my magic. I didn’t know if I’d be able to do it, be able to make the tumblers move, all the pieces fit just right. But I closed my eyes, and in my mind I saw the brass fittings and imagined them moving and whirling exactly the way I needed them to.
Snick.
I looked over both shoulders before turning the knob and opening the door.
The room was empty, but everything sat exactly where it had been before—the ledger sat atop the vacant desk.
My mind puzzled the pieces together. One glimpse of a quick image from earlier in my stay at the castle had lodged itself in my brain. I crossed to the desk and slid open one of the drawers.
It moved easily, and I peeked inside enough to see the necklace that Maple Bradford had been wearing in the picture Milly had shown me.
It wasn’t until that moment that I put it all together.
“Find what you’re looking for?”
Sweat immediately sprinkled on my forehead. I pivoted around slowly.
There stood Graham Cents, the castle banker and man who had murdered Angelique Kiln.
“You’re her son,” I said.
He nodded. He locked the door behind him. My heart jackhammered against my rib cage. I swallowed a knot in the back of my throat and lifted my chin, trying to look confident.
Graham wound around the room slowly. “My mother is not a great person. My mother isn’t even a good person.” He adjusted the glasses on his nose. “She is my mother, and the only one I have. She was such a criminal that after I grew up, I changed my name, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love her. Yes, I never told anyone. Of course, no one here at the castle knows my true identity. And I’m a loyal employee. Always do what I’m told.”
“Except this time,” I said.
As he spoke, I tried to figure out the best way of escape. I didn’t see a weapon yet, but I was pretty sure that Graham had some sort of plan for me that involved my dead body connecting with the floor.
“When Roman arrested my mother, it ruined her life.”
