by Morgana Best
Camino shot me a warning glance, so I shoved another strawberry frosted cupcake into my mouth. Dawson and Camino left the room to fetch more food.
I whispered to Thyme, “Who are we checking out next?”
“Yarrow Larkspur, I’d say,” she said.
The television suddenly came to life. By instinct, I turned down the volume. “What is the house watching now?” Thyme asked me.
I glanced at the screen. “It’s an Agatha Christie movie, but I can’t tell which one just yet.”
“Agatha Christie is the queen of crime, so maybe you’ll come across a clue when you watch those movies.”
“I suppose.” Still, I knew that sitting down watching television was not something I could do. My stomach was churning and my breath was coming rapidly, in short bursts. Sitting around wouldn’t get Alder out of prison. Something wasn’t right about this case, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
Chapter 16
Thyme and I were on our way to Yarrow Larkspur’s house. “You know Thyme, I can’t shake the feeling that this has something to do with Alder rather than Bertha.”
Thyme shot a look at me. “Um?” She hunched over the steering wheel.
“What are you doing?”
“I just saw a bush turkey, and I thought its friend might be close behind it. Besides, it’s almost dusk so I’m worried a kangaroo will jump out in front of me.”
“Did you hear what I said?” I asked her.
“Yes, and I answered, didn’t I? Alder wasn’t the victim. If someone was after him, why didn’t they murder him instead of Bertha?”
That threw me. “I don’t know, to be honest,” I said. “I had a feeling something bad was going to happen, and I was right, and now I have a feeling that this has something to do with Alder.”
“Alder has been a private detective for a long time, so he would have made enemies, but one of the local witches? It doesn’t seem likely.”
“Maybe one of the local witches has a relative,” I said. “We might be barking up the wrong tree looking for people with a grudge against Bertha.”
“Maybe so,” Thyme said as she pulled up outside a delightful mud brick cottage, “but it’s a good place to start. Ruprecht’s right—the simplest solution is usually the best. We will investigate the suspects first, and if we don’t make any headway, we can start looking into people who have a grudge against Alder.”
“Actually, while we’re investigating the people with a grudge against Bertha, we should see if they have a grudge against Alder as well, because it would be quite a stretch to murder someone just to get to Alder. It must be someone who has a grudge against both of them.”
“You’re making my head spin,” Thyme said. “Now, be careful what you say to Yarrow Larkspur, because he might just be pretending to be Wiccan.”
“Sure.” I certainly didn’t intend to upset anyone who used to be known simply as ‘Bear’ and who had a criminal record for violence.
Bear, I mean Yarrow, was sitting on a stone in his front garden making daisy chains. He looked up and saw us. “Merry meet!”
“Merry meet to you too,” Thyme said. “Thanks so much for agreeing to speak with us.”
He gestured to the ground. “Please feel free to sit and ground yourselves on Mother Earth.”
“Thanks,” I said as I looked for a suitable stone. My track record with stones had not been good lately. My neck still hurt from sleeping on a stone as a pillow at Ruprecht’s house.
Yarrow put his daisy chains down and looked at us. “What can I do for you lovely ladies?”
A breeze blew up, wafting his scent of lavender and sweet orange oil towards us.
“They have wrongfully arrested Alder for the murder of his aunt,” I told him. “We think the murderer is someone who has a grudge against Bertha and Alder.”
“What Amelia meant to say,” Thyme said, shooting me a look, “is that the person who murdered Bertha obviously had a grudge against her, but given the fact Alder has been set up to take the fall for the murder, we figure the murderer has a grudge against him as well.”
Yarrow nodded. “Yes, that makes sense.” A daisy fell from his hair. Yarrow shot out his hand and caught it mid air, ninja style. Those were some reflexes!
“You’ve lived in town for years, so we thought you might know something about Bertha,” I said. “Anything at all that you can tell us might be helpful.”
Yarrow stared past me. “I didn’t know her, I’m afraid. I didn’t have any run-ins with her because I wasn’t a witch back then. I only found my path when I was in prison.”
“Quite so,” Thyme said. “Do you have any idea why she smashed your camera last week?”
I saw something flicker in his eyes, but then it was gone. “She was hurting herself more than me,” he said. “I was able to claim it back on insurance and I’ll actually get a better camera. Obviously the poor woman had problems.”
“Did you ever hear anything about her being ill?” I asked him.
He looked genuinely surprised. “I don’t really know. As I said, I don’t know anything about her.”
“It’s terrible that she smashed your camera,” I said, trying to lead him into conversation, but he was no fool.
“Are you questioning me because you see me as a suspect?” he asked.
Thyme and I exchanged glances.
He chuckled. “Look, I don’t mind, seriously. I do have a long criminal record. It’s a wonder the police haven’t been here to see me.”
“They haven’t?” I asked him. “They questioned me at length. I would have thought they’d question everyone who went to the wedding. They knew she smashed your camera, so at a stretch they could think you’d have a motive. If they’re not questioning other people who might have had a grudge against Bertha, that means they really think Alder did it.”
“I’m sorry about that,” he said. “Alder seems like a good bloke. I don’t know him well, though. I only know members of my Wicca coven, really. They have been a great support to me.” He picked up his flowers and continued making his daisy chains.
I made a mental note to check into Yarrow’s criminal history. Alder had been a private detective for a long time, and maybe Yarrow had more convictions than assault. If so, perhaps Alder had been commissioned to look into Yarrow’s affairs. Perhaps his being on the Wicca path was all an act. A good one, but nevertheless an act. How would we find out?
Thyme tapped my knee. “Amelia, you were a million miles away.”
“I’m sure you have a lot on your mind, what with your husband being charged with murder,” Yarrow said.
“Falsely accused,” I added.
He nodded solemnly. “Have you been doing spells to get him out of prison?”
I jumped up. “No!” I shrieked. “I’m an idiot.”
“Like I said, you’ve had a lot on your mind.”
“We will certainly do a spell to help things along,” Thyme said, “but the last time we did a truth spell, there were rather serious consequences.”
“Oh well, I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he said dismissively.
That was clearly our cue to leave, so we thanked him and walked back to the car.
“What did you think of that?” I asked Thyme as soon as we were out of earshot.
She shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s an act or not. For all we know, he could be a serial killer or a hitman for the CIA.” She shot me a look and then said, “I’m kidding, but really we have no way of knowing. He does have a long record for violence, but maybe he’s turned the corner.”
“Yes, I want to check into his criminal record. I want to know if Alder was ever involved in any of his cases.”
Thyme was silent for a moment and then said, “Oh, I see. Yes, you’re right. Alder has worked with the police from time to time.”
“How will we find out about Yarrow’s criminal record?” I asked her.
Thyme snorted rudely. “I’ll ask Dawson of course, and failing tha
t, Mint can ask Chris.”
I laughed in spite of myself. “You realise the three of us have boyfriends who are in law enforcement?”
“Your boyfriend is actually your husband,” Thyme pointed out.
“Hmm,” I muttered. “I’ve spent no more than fifteen minutes with my husband since we got married.”
The Bluetooth in Thyme’s car signalled an incoming text from Ruprecht. She pressed the screen, and the disembodied voice read slowly in a monotone, “Meet me at Amelia’s house. I have news about the case.”
Chapter 17
I could not repeat the words I uttered when I stepped inside my house.
“Sorry,” I said when I recovered.
“Don’t worry, I said worse when I saw what had happened,” Camino said. “So did Ruprecht.”
I looked at Ruprecht, who turned away, his face a bright shade of red.
“The house hasn’t done this for ages.”
Ruprecht agreed with me. “The house has never done anything to this extent, not to my knowledge.”
The house on occasion had added a room, but now the entire interior was different. The pretty pale green hallway had given way to dark panelling. I ran into my bedroom. It was still in the same place, but the shabby chic was no longer. In its place was something I could only describe as sophisticated man-cave.
I hurried into the living room. Again, it was in its original location, but was no longer entirely feminine. My pretty mix of bohemian and shabby chic had given way to the layering and depth of a traditional look.
Ruprecht said something, but I couldn’t hear. “Grandmother, could you turn that TV down, please?”
“She’s watching Wasp’s Nest now,” Ruprecht told me. “You know, the film based on the Agatha Christie short story.”
“Um,” I said absently. The house’s TV tastes were the least of my concern. “Why has she done this?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Ruprecht asked.
Camino tapped his arm. “You need to drop that habit,” she scolded him. “If it was obvious, no one would need to ask.”
Ruprecht looked suitably abashed. “Sorry. It’s obvious the house wants Alder to move in here with you. The house wants the two of you to live here.”
Willow and Hawthorn looked up from their sofa and shot me a look of what I assumed was agreement.
“Oh,” was all I could manage. “I’d like that, but I think it’s unfair to Alder to ask him to move into my house. Anyway, you said you had news of the case?”
“Oh yes,” Ruprecht said. “With all the excitement of the house changing rooms, it almost slipped my mind.”
I was itching with impatience. “What is it?”
“Maeve’s former partner, Bradley Wilson, is in prison.” Ruprecht paused for dramatic effect.
“Go on,” Thyme prompted him.
“He is in prison for dealing in cocaine, and Alder had a part in sending him to prison.”
I gasped. “So it’s looking like Maeve did it!”
Ruprecht shook his head. “Not so fast. Maeve never speaks of him, and we don’t know if they are still in each other’s lives. We need to find out if she visits him in prison. If not, it could be that their relationship was over before all this happened.”
“It’s certainly a lead,” I said.
Thyme agreed. “It’s the best one we have so far.”
“Do we know whether Alder had any involvement in Yarrow’s criminal history?” I asked Ruprecht.
“Not as yet,” he said. “Hopefully, we will know soon.”
The house turned the television up loud again.
“Grandmother, please!” I said. “Can’t you see we’re trying to solve this case?”
The house turned the television up even louder by way of response.
“Please turn it down,” Ruprecht said. “I know Amelia has kept you appraised of the facts, and I realise you’re trying to give us a clue, but what?”
The house turned the television on and off several times.
“There’s obviously a clue in the Agatha Christie movies the house is watching,” I said to Ruprecht. “But what?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said. “Which Agatha Christie films has she been watching?”
“Well, it started with Murder on the Blue Train, and then it was Evil Under the Sun, and apparently today it’s been Wasp’s Nest. Is that right?”
Ruprecht nodded. “We haven’t been here long, but it’s been Wasp’s Nest ever since we got here. It will be interesting to see which movie is next. Maybe there is a common pattern.”
“Hmm, they’re all Hercule Poirot and not Miss Marple,” I pointed out.
The house made a strange sound.
“Did you hear that?” Thyme said.
We all said that we did.
“The house reacted to you saying they were all Hercule Poirot movies,” Thyme said.
I bit my lip. “I realise that, but does that mean the house is agreeing or disagreeing with me?”
“I have no idea,” Ruprecht said, “but the house was having a strong reaction to your words. The only problem is we don’t know what type of strong reaction. We don’t know whether it’s a clue that they are all Hercule Poirot movies, or whether the house is annoyed that you suggested that.”
I rubbed my forehead. “At first I thought we didn’t have any suspects and now it seems like we have a few. I don’t know what to do next.”
“You need to speak with Maeve,” Camino said.
“Should we just come straight out and ask her about her partner?” I was being sarcastic, but to my surprise, Ruprecht agreed.
“Yes, precisely.” He rubbed his hands together. “Ask her when she last saw her partner. If she appears to be angry with him in any way, ask if she thinks he could have been behind Bertha’s murder.”
“But it had to be someone who was at the wedding,” I pointed out.
“That’s not a problem,” Ruprecht said. “Maybe someone had an accomplice who was present at the wedding.”
“Oh great, just what we need now, another suspect.” I sat on the sofa, narrowly missing Willow who let out a yowl of protest.
“If we’re going to speak to Maeve, we should do it now to get it out of the way,” Thyme said. “Come on Amelia, let’s go.”
“What now?” I said. “I don’t feel terribly well. I just wanted to lie down.”
Thyme took my arm. “Nonsense! You do want to solve this case and get Alder home, don’t you?”
“Sure.”
It was a short drive to Maeve’s house. It was a pretty little cottage on the edge of town on a couple of acres. Two pet goats grazed happily in the front paddock under a willow tree. One of the little goats stood on its hind legs trying to eat the lower branches, but it looked like the other goat had already beaten her to it.
“What if Maeve turns nasty?” I asked Thyme.
“No problem, it will make her even more of a suspect and help us narrow it down,” Thyme said.
After Thyme parked her car at the front of the property, we walked down the long gravel driveway. The curious little goats followed us all the way. “These guys are super cute,” I said. I made to lean over the fence to pat them when Thyme shrieked and grabbed my arm.
“Electric fence,” she said. “You were nearly zapped.”
I thanked her. “You saved me from a nasty shock, no pun intended.”
Thyme pulled a face. I was mentally rehearsing what to say to Maeve when she walked down the pathway to meet us.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you two.” I was wondering whether she was annoyed by our unexpected visit when she added, “Would you like to come in for a nice cup of herbal tea?”
“Thanks, that would be great,” I said.
“The boys are playing out in the back yard so we can have our tea in the sunroom and keep an eye on them,” she said. “What sort of tea would you like? I have lemongrass, comfrey, lemon and ginger, chamomile, and hibiscus.”
“Lemo
n and ginger would be nice please,” I said, and Thyme said she would have the same.
Soon we were sitting in a bright yellow sunroom warmed by not only the sun but also by the combustion fire in the corner. The whole ambience was delightfully cosy. The boys were playing happily outside. It was hard for me to see Maeve as a cold-blooded killer.
“Aren’t they cold?” I asked Maeve.
She laughed. “No, they were born in Bayberry Creek, so they’re used to the cold. Besides, they’ve been running around so much that it warms them up. I suppose you’ve come here about that dreadful woman’s murder?”
I nodded. “Yes. I don’t want to intrude, but I know Alder didn’t do it, so Thyme and I have been asking people about Bertha—anything at all that will help us have insights into who might have killed her.”
“Do you have any leads so far?”
“No,” I lied. “I have completely hit a brick wall. It had to be someone at the wedding, but that seems unlikely, so we’re completely puzzled. Of course, the police have arrested Alder. It had to be someone who had the opportunity to put the poison into his pocket, and also someone broke into his apartment and planted poison there, but the police found no evidence of a break-in.”
“Most puzzling,” Maeve said absently.
“If you don’t mind us asking, have you seen Bradley Wilson lately?”
Maeve’s hand jerked involuntarily, so much so that she nearly spilt her tea. “I haven’t seen him in years,” she said. “We broke up before the twins were born.”
“You haven’t seen him lately?” I asked again.
“No, he doesn’t even pay child support. I did try to pursue it at first, but the lawyer said it might develop into a legal battle so I gave up. I’m glad I haven’t seen him, because I don’t want him to ask for visitation rights.”
“Did you know he was in prison?”
Maeve looked startled. I judged her reaction to be genuine, but then again, maybe she was simply a good actor. “Prison? You’re kidding! Whatever for?”
“Cocaine trafficking.”
She was silent for a moment, and then said, “Last I heard of him he was at the Gold Coast. I’m surprised he would do such a thing, but who’s to tell? We weren’t together very long. It was just one of those things, you know?”
