Spell on Earth

by Leighann Dobbs

  Maybe she was in one of the other town offices, and I could dodge her.

  No such luck.

  “Zola? What are you doing here?” Kenna asked, latching on to my side as I tried to back out of the door after realizing she was in the police lobby. “Why aren’t you at your shop?”

  “I’m here to check on Lilly. I’m watching her store while she’s in jail.”

  Kenna narrowed her gaze on me, her expression brimming with attitude. She clutched my elbow in viselike talons and pulled me close. “Shouldn’t you be working on you-know-what?”

  Crap! She’d heard about the gnome. I rolled my eyes, and she grasped my elbow harder.

  “Yeah, that’s right. I figured it out because of all the vandalism reports.”

  “Vandalism?”

  “There’s been a rash of incidents the past week. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard, because you’re in charge of all the landscaping around town. Gazing balls smashed and lawn flamingos broken.”

  Dang!

  “Yeah. And I heard someone mentioned a strange little man bebopping around when you found Amelia’s body, so you were the first to know about it. You know the rules. I hope you can handle it. You haven’t had the best luck with your magic,” Kenna said, continuing to hold me in place.

  I clenched my fists and bit back a nasty retort. Her words stung more than I’d ever let her know. “I know the rules. Now, if you’ll excuse me …” I yanked my arm from her claw.

  “Well, I hope you hurry. We can’t have the tourists getting harmed. And I wish the cops would hurry up and solve this case. Can’t have anything hanging over the island that affects tourism.” She left.

  I approached the reception desk, rubbing circulation back into my elbow.

  “Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asked, smacking her gum. She was a temp from the mainland and about as interested in police work as I was in quantum physics. She continued to file her nails while I stared at her. “He’s a busy guy.”

  “It will only take a minute. Please tell him Zola Meadows is here.”

  She picked up her phone as if it weighed one hundred pounds and typed in an extension, her gaze flat as she relayed my information to the person on the other end. She hung up and went back to her nails. “He said you can go back. Down the hall.” She tilted her head in the intended direction without looking at me.

  I headed to Buddy’s office, passing his deputy’s desk as I went. Buddy might be more interested in politics and getting ahead than any real detective work, but I needed answers. I knocked once on his door before walking in to find Buddy wedged behind his desk, his giant paunch preventing him from pulling too close to it.

  He waved me to one the chairs in front of his desk. “What can I do for you today, Miss Meadows?”

  “I wanted to check on the status of the Amelia Pendleton murder investigation.” I sat primly in my seat, ankles crossed, hands clenched in my lap.

  “What about it?” He tapped his fingers on his desktop, clearly irritated with me. “You can read the latest updates in the paper like everyone else.”

  “I want to know specifically about Mrs. Pendleton’s husband.” I wasn’t about to just drop this. Lilly was not going to remain incarcerated if I could speed things along to find the real killer. “He’s the most likely suspect, isn’t he? Did he ever report that she was missing? Did he have any reaction at all when he was informed about her death?”

  The constable sighed and sat back in his seat, clasping his hands atop his bulging stomach. “Not that it’s any of your business, Miss Meadows, but he didn’t report her missing because she wasn’t. She was found before anyone woke up, remember? And I suppose he seemed the right amount of upset.”

  “The right amount?” I frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “You know, agitated, pacing, angry.” The constable scowled. “Men process emotions differently.”

  “Angry? You mean he was upset that he was being questioned because he really was the killer?”

  “That’s not what I said. Stop putting words in my mouth, Miss Meadows.”

  “Well, surely you don’t think sweet Lilly Martinelli is the killer, do you?”

  We glared at each other across the desk.

  “What exactly are you implying, Miss Meadows?” A small muscle ticked near Buddy’s flabby jaw. “I know how to run my department.”

  I ignored that statement and focused on the husband instead. “I believe that Amelia Pendleton’s husband wasn’t particularly shocked or upset to hear about her death because he killed her.”

  “Excuse me?” The constable blinked at me.

  “Have you confirmed his alibi for that night?” I asked, having come too far down this road to stop now. “In most murder cases of married individuals, the spouse is usually the first and best suspect. Not to mention, he might have wanted her out of the way because of a secret strip mall building project.”

  “Now hang on a minute, Miss Meadows.” Buddy held up a hand to halt me, and I wondered if it was because of the mention of the secret project or my insistence that Frank Pendleton was the killer. “First, how do you know who is or isn’t the prime suspect in a murder investigation? I’m guessing you’ve watched one too many crime shows. Second, don’t tell me how to do my job. And third, do you have any proof of this strip mall deal? Because I’ve heard nothing about that.”

  Liar. I would have loved to say it out loud, but I couldn’t let on that Iona had spilled the beans to me while under a truth spell. No one on the island other than Skye, Kenna, and Evian knew I was a witch. “I heard their marriage wasn’t that great.”

  “Hardly a reason for killing.” Buddy’s eyes narrowed as if just realizing what I’d said a few sentences back. “Where did you hear that strip mall rumor, anyway?”

  “The tiki bar.”

  Buddy snorted. “You can’t believe everything you hear at the tiki bar. I heard you were kissing the accused’s nephew there last week. Now, in my book, that coupled with the fact that you are in here trying to cast aspersions on someone other than Lilly makes you very suspicious. But I won’t hold it against you, because I heard it at the tiki bar.”

  The office door burst open, and the deputy rushed in, eight-by-ten glossy photos spilling out of his hands.

  “Hey, Uncle Buddy. Check this out!” He spread the photos on the desk.

  “Ugh. Lenny, I mean Deputy Carlisle, I don’t think we should be discussing this in front of …” Buddy nodded in my direction, and Lenny noticed me for the first time. He glanced uncertainly from me to the photos, then his face brightened.

  “This is big. Really big. I think I found something!”

  Buddy scowled as Lenny babbled on. No way was I going to leave. I wanted to hear. Though judging by Lenny’s competence—and Buddy’s, for that matter—it wouldn’t be much.

  “Look at the victim’s clothes. They all have chocolate on them except her purse. Why is that?”

  “Maybe it was moved,” I said before catching myself. Both men gave me a sharp look. “Sorry.”

  Buddy picked up one of the images and squinted at it. “Could the killer have taken it before they drowned her in the fountain because they thought there might be something incriminating in it? Then they put it back after going through it?”

  Buddy surprised me with that one. It was actually a very good hunch.

  “That’s exactly what I thought!” Lenny said. “There was chocolate spatter underneath it, so the purse couldn’t have been there when Amelia was killed. It had to have been put there later. But what was the killer looking for, and did he find it?”

  I looked at another photo on the desk showing the contents of the purse. Everything that I remembered was there—lipstick, makeup, candy wrappers from Lilly’s shop, a pocket-sized calendar. The daughter had mentioned a meeting. “May I see the calendar?”

  “No.” Lenny and Buddy answered in unison.

  Well, so much for that idea.

  The phone buzzed, and t
he receptionist’s bored voice echoed through the constable’s office. “There’s another resident here about broken lawn ornaments, sir.”

  Buddy rolled his eyes. “Tell them I’ll be there in a minute to take a report, Denise.”

  “Will do,” the receptionist said. “This one’s got more too. Mangled lawn flamingos and an entire crop of summer squash gone.”

  Great. A gnome with the munchies.

  I stood and gathered my purse. “I really need to get going. If I could get in to check on Lilly before I do, that would be great.”

  Buddy sighed. “Fine. Lenny, would you take her to the cell?”

  “Sure!” Lenny reached for the large metal ring on his belt, the keys jangling. He picked out a small key. “Follow me.”

  “Hey, where are we going?” I asked as he led me through the lobby and outside.

  “Oh, you didn’t know?” Lenny frowned at me. “We don’t have a proper jail cell, so Buddy had the toolshed retrofitted for incarcerations. It’s actually kind of nice.”

  Visions of Lilly chained to a metal workbench with tools hanging all around swam in my head. Poor Lilly! I had to do something to get her out fast.

  But the toolshed jail cell wasn’t the rusted metal box I’d imagined. It was wood painted a cheery white with yellow trim. The front had two windows complete with flower-laden window boxes.

  “You like the flowers?” Lenny asked as he fitted the key into the padlock. “Aunt Mitzi planted them.”

  It figured Buddy wouldn’t hire me to plant them. And I didn’t remember Mitzi buying any flowers from me. Where had she gotten them? And where was Mitzi, anyway? She always seemed to be hovering around Buddy or in the cozy-covered police cart, but right now she was nowhere to be seen. I didn’t really want to see her, but Penuche had said that Lilly was at Mitzi’s knitting class the night Amelia Pendleton died. I was sure the class let out before the woman was killed, but if I could get Mitzi to corroborate, maybe it would provide Lilly with some sort of alibi and prove she couldn’t be the killer. The one time I actually wanted to talk to Mitzi, she wasn’t around. Perhaps I’d run into her after my visit with Lilly.

  The inside of the tool shed wasn’t what I’d expected either. Instead of dirty old tools, it was filled with quilts and books and a cozy armchair where she could knit. It even had a small private bathroom. A fresh pie sat on a side table beneath the golden glow of a lamp—apple, if the cinnamon and crisp Granny Smith aroma was any indication. And if I wasn’t mistaken, it was the handiwork of Tommy. I recognized the top crust design from those at the spa restaurant.

  “Lilly,” I said, rushing over to hug her once the deputy let me in. “How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine, dear. Thank you for checking on me. How are things at my shop?”

  “Good. Good. Sales are brisk each day. We’re almost out of caramels.”

  “See?” Lilian smiled at me. “I told you those were a hot seller.”

  I refrained from mentioning the gnome. “Amelia Pendleton’s daughter stopped in yesterday and wanted me to pass on her compliments about your candy. She said she found two boxes of them in her mother’s possessions.”

  “Yes,” Lilly said, resuming her knitting. “I remember now that Amelia was fond of them.”

  “Do you remember her coming into the store to buy them?”

  “No. Can’t say I do.”

  “No? She didn’t come in much. Seems like she had a lot of chocolates in her room, from what I hear. Maybe she mentioned some sort of meeting?”

  Lilly’s clacking needles stopped, and she frowned down at her work. “No, dear. As I said, I didn’t know her that well. This stitch is giving me fits.”

  Now for a much harder question, one I feared the answer to. “Lilly, honey, do you remember where you were the night Amelia was killed?”

  Lilly hesitated a fraction of a second before the clack of her needles filled the room again. “I closed up the shop and went home. Why?”

  Telling her that her cat had told me a different story wasn’t an option, so I hoped that my friend was just getting forgetful in her old age because, otherwise, that meant Lilly was lying, and I didn’t want to believe that. “Oh, no reason. I was just hoping that you had a solid alibi so we could get you out of here. I mean one where someone saw you. Penuche misses you something terrible, by the way.”

  “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll be out of here soon enough.” Lilly looked up and smiled at me.“Don’t listen to any of those nasty rumors you might hear. It will all work out just fine. I know, because you have a direct line to the big guy upstairs. I have faith that you’ll make everything right.” She returned her focus to her knitting. “When you get back to my shop, dear, can you make sure you put those white chocolates on sale? And be sure to change the display in the front window.”

  “Will do.” I stood and hugged her again. The deputy let me out. “I’ll check on you again soon, Lilly.”

  “Thank you, dear.” She was consumed with her knitting again. “Thank you for everything.”

  I walked outside, taking a deep breath of fresh air and noticing that Buddy was at his cop cart. Oh good. Maybe I could talk to Mitzi about the knitting circle. Lilly must have been forgetful when she said she’d gone straight home.

  I approached the cart. “Where’s Mitzi? Inside?”

  “No. Contrary to popular belief, we don’t do everything together. Are you done asking questions today, Meadows?”

  “Yeah, but I was hoping to talk to Mitzi.”

  “Well you’ll have to wait—unless you’re going to her knitting circle, because that’s where I’m headed. Gotta pick her up at home and drop her off so she can set the room up. Toodles.”

  He drove off, leaving me staring after him. Mitzi’s knitting circle met once a week, and apparently tonight was meeting night. But Amelia had died two nights ago. Lilly couldn’t have been at the knitting circle as Penuche had assumed. So where had she been the night Amelia died?

  Fourteen

  I changed the window display at Sweet Satisfaction and put the white chocolates on sale just as Lilly asked, then took Clover and Penuche back to my cottage so I could change for karaoke night.

  I was a bit worried about leaving the two of them alone, but they seemed to have formed some sort of truce. Clover hadn’t even tried to scarf down the cat’s food when I’d fed them. I was growing increasingly suspicious of their new friendship but didn’t have time to dwell on it.

  I walked into Coconuts tiki bar around eight. The place was already hopping. Tourists and townies alike crowded the space, all sipping tropical drinks with pink umbrellas in them. Many had fake plastic leis around their necks and flowers in their hair.

  On the stage at the far end of the room, a tourist swayed drunkenly, a microphone in hand, while she crooned an off-key rendition of Madonna’s La Isla Bonita.

  I spotted Kenna and Evian sitting at our usual table. Evian caught my eye and nodded toward the bar, where Skye was engrossed in a conversation with the bartender. Good news, she was wearing the white pants. A smile of anticipation crept across my lips as I made my way to the table.

  Evian pulled up a chair for me, and I slipped in beside her and Kenna. Evian was dressed in a smart pink shirt accented with some kind of glitter. Kenna was meticulously dressed in a silky silver tank top and jangly bracelets. Her expression was apologetic.

  “Sorry about going off on you at the police station earlier. I’m just super stressed. I don’t exactly have trying-to-keep-the-news-of-a-murder-under-wraps scheduled into my planner.”

  “Or explaining away the destruction from a gnome running around town,” I added.

  “Ugh. So there is a creature?” Kenna asked.

  I nodded.

  “How is that going?” Evian asked.

  “I’ve got it under control. I’ll have him taken care of tomorrow night.”

  Evian nodded. Turning her attention back to Skye, she quirked a brow at me. “Ready?”

  Kenna frowned. �
��What is going on?”

  “Prank on Skye,” Evian said.

  Kenna’s face lit up. “Oh good! I still owe her from last week.”

  Evian gave the nod, and we both focused on Skye, whose back was turned to us. One. Two. Three. Splat! A smear of dark mud appeared on the back of her pristine white pants.

  Skye speared the guy next to her with an indignant look and kicked him. She must’ve felt the splat and thought he touched her. They exchanged angry words before she spun around and headed toward our table.

  “Here she comes,” Evian said. “Act natural.”

  At the bar a few people had turned on their stools and were pointing at Skye’s butt. The man she’d had words with whispered something to the guy next to them, and they erupted in laughter.

  Skye stopped mid-stride. She spun around to face the bar, glared at everyone who was looking at her, then turned back toward our table, a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

  She flopped into a chair. “Did you guys see that? I guess I still look pretty good in these pants. Everyone is staring at my butt.”

  “You do look good,” I said.

  “Definitely,” Evian added.

  “Haven’t changed since high school,” Kenna said.

  A waitress came by, and we ordered a round of rum runners. We needed them to drown out the awful karaoke singing. I figured I could make good use of the time we were forced to spend together by pumping Skye for information. Her nosy nature and the fact that she owned The Croaker meant that she knew pretty much everything that was going on around town.

  “So, Skye, tell us what’s going on with the Pendleton case,” I said, ditching my straw and drinking from the glass. I’d heard Skye licked the bottoms of the straws. Even though she hadn’t touched my drink, I still felt it was smart to get in the habit of ditching the straw.

  Skye blinked at me then gave a rueful shake of her head. “All work and no play, Zola? Same as ever.”

  “A woman died on our island,” I said, bristling. “Pardon me for taking that seriously.”

  “You don’t think the rest of us are concerned?” Skye’s tone took on an edge. “In case you forgot, all four of us are required to protect this place. If we don’t, we get punished the same as you.”