Wedding Spells

by Morgana Best

  “Now let’s not jump to any conclusions,” Ruprecht said. “Just because his conviction could possibly give him a grudge against Alder, whether or not he holds said grudge is a matter of conjecture.”

  I bent over and moved a log with the fire poker. “But don’t you see? Yarrow had a grudge against Bertha, and he also had a grudge against Alder. Aren’t we looking for someone with a grudge against both Alder and his aunt?”

  Ruprecht shook his head. “Not necessarily. I have always maintained that it might be someone with a grudge against Bertha. The murderer likely saw Alder as the easiest person to set up to take the fall for the murder.”

  Suddenly the television’s volume was at full blast. Everyone was startled. Hawthorn and Willow ran from the room, their hair standing on end and their tails fluffed up like toilet brushes.

  “Grandmother, please turn that down so we can discuss the case,” I said.

  The house did not respond. I walked over and turned the TV down, and to my relief, the volume stayed down.

  “What’s the house watching now?” Ruprecht said. “It could be a clue.”

  I shook my head. “No, the house is still watching Wasp’s Nest. I think she has a crush on Hastings.”

  “He is pretty cute,” Thyme said.

  I agreed. “I can’t tell you why, but there’s just something about him. I find him undeniably attractive.”

  Ruprecht cleared his throat loudly. “Ladies, let’s get back to the case at hand. I have further news.”

  “What is it?” Camino said.

  “Alder said he also helped the police with the case of Maeve’s ex-boyfriend, Bradley Wilson. He was helping the police on the case that had him convicted.”

  “Aha!” I said. “We know Maeve had a grudge against Bertha, and now we know she had a grudge against Alder.”

  Ruprecht waggled his finger at me. “Amelia, you’re being a little loose with the facts. Yes, we know Maeve had a grudge against Bertha, but we don’t know if she had a grudge against Alder. Bradley Wilson might not have a grudge against Alder. We don’t know the relationship between Maeve and Bradley. She said she hadn’t seen him in years.”

  “But that’s just it,” I said. “She lied to us.”

  “Once again, Amelia, you’re jumping to conclusions. Let’s examine the actual facts. It is possible that Maeve had not seen Bradley in years until she saw him today at the Garden of Weedon. How exactly were they acting towards each other?”

  “We have already told you at great length,” Camino said. “How many times do you want us to go over our story? Anyone would think you’re a police officer making us repeat our story over and over and over again. Why don’t you make a spreadsheet and check our answers for continuity?”

  “Grumpy much,” I said to Camino. “I’m the one who should be grumpy. You set me on fire and doused me with fertiliser.”

  “I didn’t do it personally,” Camino said. She would have said more, but mercifully Ruprecht intervened.

  “More Merlot?”

  Camino held out her glass. We all followed suit.

  I always thought there is nothing quite so comforting as an open fire. I clutched the blanket close to me, wishing Alder was here. No one suspect stood out. I said as much, and added, “Now we have two suspects who had a grudge against both Bertha and Alder.” I saw Ruprecht looking at me, so I quickly amended that to, “Now we have two suspects who had a grudge against Bertha and have a possible grudge against Alder. Do we discard Damon Stark?”

  “I don’t think we can discard anyone at this point,” Thyme said.

  “I agree with Thyme,” Ruprecht said. “Damon does have grounds for quite a strong grudge against Bertha.”

  “If he was the one who went to Alder’s place to plant the evidence and Bertha let him in, she would have recognised him.”

  “Perhaps he wore a disguise,” Ruprecht said. “Bertha would have had no reason to be suspicious.”

  “I’ve just realised something!” I shrieked. “All our suspects are witches!”

  Ruprecht put down his wine goblet with a thump. “Oh Amelia, you’re right! Why didn’t we see that? Oh yes, the fact we didn’t see it makes it even more likely.”

  “What?” Thyme said.

  I beat Ruprecht to the explanation. “If it was a witch who murdered Bertha and framed Alder, then they’re obviously doing witchcraft to keep the truth from us.”

  “Of course!” Thyme said. “Why didn’t we see that before?”

  “Maybe because they did a spell to stop us from getting to the truth, which is what I just said.” I let out a long breath.

  “I think I’ve had too much wine to understand you,” Thyme said, “or maybe I haven’t had enough.”

  The house turned up the television.

  “My grandmother is in a mood tonight,” I said, “and she hasn’t even been set on fire or been doused with poisoned water.”

  “It was only fertiliser,” Camino said, her expression pained. “Amelia, you shouldn’t exaggerate.”

  I took a big gulp of wine by way of response.

  Mint burst into the room, waving her phone. “I’ve just found out some really interesting news from Chris, but he says I’m not supposed to tell anyone.”

  “We won’t tell him you told us,” Thyme said.

  “Oh, he wants me to tell you guys; he just doesn’t want us to tell anyone that he told us.”

  My head was already spinning. “Sure, whatever,” I said. “That’s nice of him to tell you though, whatever it is. What is it?”

  Mint’s face fell. “Oh. It’s not that exciting.”

  “It obviously runs in the family,” Camino said dryly. “Out with it, Mint! What did he tell you?”

  “Bertha Bunyons had congestive heart failure.”

  We all shot her blank looks.

  She pushed on. “She was at death’s door. She wouldn’t have lasted long at all. The doctor had told her that the medication wasn’t working and she only had a few weeks to live.”

  I knew that impacted the case somehow, but couldn’t quite figure it out. Maybe the fertiliser had a neurotoxic effect. I was about to remark on this to Camino, when Ruprecht spoke. “Then whoever murdered her didn’t know that she was about to die anyway.”

  “Well, maybe they did know and their target was Alder all along,” I said.

  “You’re right,” Ruprecht said. “There’s only one thing to do, and we should have done it by now.”

  Chapter 22

  “What is it?” I asked him.

  “We need to do a spell to ascertain the truth,” he said.

  “We’ve done those before and they haven’t exactly worked,” Thyme pointed out.

  “They worked fine,” Ruprecht protested. “They just didn’t work in the way you thought they would.”

  “Okay, let’s do a spell. Why don’t we invite Mystical Maria to do a tea leaf reading as well?” I said.

  “That’s a really good idea,” Mint said. “Is it too late to invite her over now?”

  “It won’t hurt to invite her, even if it’s too short notice for her to come. Let’s invite her for dinner tonight.”

  “Yes, and tell her you’re not cooking or she won’t come at all,” Thyme said with a chuckle.

  It turned out Mystical Maria had sprained her ankle just after the wedding reception and wasn’t able to drive to my place. She invited us all to her office.

  I remembered Mystical Maria’s office. It was on the top of the tallest building in Bayberry Creek. The tallest building was five storeys high, and that was quite something for this town.

  The building was deserted, and had an eerie air about it despite the fact it wasn’t quite seven at night. “Clearly no one is working late,” Mint said.

  “This place is barely inhabited anyway,” I told her. “It’s mostly rented to professional people who come to town about once or twice a month.”

  The creaky lift finally came to a stop. I jumped out as fast as I could. “The d
ecorating certainly hasn’t changed. The walls are still that dreadful magnolia colour.”

  Camino agreed. “Yes, I remember the walls clashed horribly with the olive green carpet. I’m always scared I’ll be trapped in that ancient lift with no food or coffee.” We had persuaded Camino to wear normal clothes, much to my relief.

  “The rent’s cheap, no doubt,” Ruprecht said.

  Camino sneezed. “It’s just as dusty as ever.”

  “Come in,” Mystical Maria a.k.a. Barb called from down the hall.

  Her door was open. I walked past rows of crystals, tarot cards, and white sage smudge sticks. “That’s dreadful about your foot,” I said to Barb. “How did it happen?”

  She pointed to the walls. “I had permission to paint in here, and I fell off the ladder. The doctors said it could have been much worse. Imagine that, falling off a ladder!”

  We all murmured our sympathies.

  “I’m sorry about Alder,” she continued. “I don’t think for a minute that he did it.”

  “No he didn’t, and that’s why we’re here to get clues as to the murderer’s identity,” I told her.

  “I’m happy to do anything I can to help,” she said. “I met his aunt at the reception briefly, and she seemed to be a frightful woman, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  “Not at all. I completely agree with you,” I said.

  Barb nodded. “The way she disrupted your wedding! I wonder what makes people do things like that.”

  “She was dreadfully ill with congestive heart failure,” I said. “Maybe that explains her behaviour.”

  Barb disagreed. “My father died of congestive heart failure, and he was a lovely man right up until the day he crossed over. No, I don’t think that’s any excuse, but then again, they say you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

  “Who says that?” Camino asked her.

  Barb looked puzzled. “I don’t know, to tell you the truth. Anyway, if someone would be so kind as to go into the little kitchen and make a pot of tea and then bring it out.”

  “I’ll go,” I said.

  Thyme put a restraining hand on my arm.

  “I can boil water,” I protested.

  “Not without burning it,” Thyme said with a chuckle. She must have noticed my face, because she continued, “Okay, I’m only teasing. Your baking has improved so much. You haven’t set anything on fire lately, apart from the Bombe Alaska, that is.”

  “That was Camino’s fault,” I said crossly. “She threw kerosene on the cake.”

  I saw Barb’s jaw had dropped open. I shook my head. “It’s a long story.”

  Thyme went off to make the tea while the rest of us sat around the table. “How’s business?” Ruprecht asked Barb.

  “Not as good in winter,” she said. “And there have been so many rainy days lately.”

  Ruprecht shot her a solemn look. “I always say only mean customers come out on rainy days.”

  “Yes, and children’s behaviour always deteriorates on rainy days too,” Barb said.

  “Now about Alder,” I said in an attempt to change the conversation, “I don’t know specifically what you could do to help, but it would be wonderful if you could think of something.”

  Barb produced a large knitting needle and inserted it into her cast. “My foot is unbearably itchy,” she said, “but they say the itchiness is a sign of healing.”

  Before Camino could ask her who ‘they’ was again, I said, “Perhaps you could see if the tea leaves reveal who the killer was.”

  “I most certainly will try,” Barb said, nodding as she spoke. “But the tea leaves can be capricious, so don’t get your hopes up. It might not give you the person’s name.”

  Ruprecht tapped the table with one finger. “Barb, should we tell you the names of the suspects first or is it better if you don’t know?”

  Barb did not hesitate before answering. “It’s best if I don’t know. Maybe I can say something that will help you put two and two together. If all else fails, you can tell me their names later. Besides, it could be someone you don’t suspect.”

  “We suspect everyone,” Mint said with a laugh.

  Barb pursed her lips. “Maybe you don’t.”

  Thyme returned with a pot of tea and tea cups for everyone. She placed the tray in front of Barb. It was an odd assortment. The teapot appeared to be Chinese and was of plain red clay, while the tea cups were all English and vintage. I noticed Barb take a long look, but she remained silent.

  “I’ll have the Aynsley Indian Tree cup and saucer please,” Ruprecht said. When Thyme shot him a blank look, he took the cup from the tray.

  I ended up with a pretty green ivy pattern which looked pagan to me, although I am sure that was not the intent of the makers. I inhaled the heady scent of the tea. It was pungent and somewhat smoky. I wasn’t a tea drinker, much preferring coffee, but I had to admit the scent was delightful.

  “You might not remember what to do,” Barb said, “but I want each of you to drink the tea and when you have finished, set down your tea cup. Don’t touch your cup after you set it down.”

  Camino nodded. “I remember now. And we don’t have to think of any questions, do we?”

  Barb shook her head. “No, not at all. It doesn’t matter if you do, though, so feel free. Whatever you do, don’t rotate your cup or turn it upside down when you’re finished.”

  The tea was pleasant tasting, unlike the tea I’d had on my past visits. I was the first to finish the tea.

  Barb signalled for me to hand over my tea cup. She turned my tea cup upside down and rotated it three times. As she peered into the leaves, she muttered to herself.

  “The good news is that you will soon be back with Alder,” she said.

  I was so relieved I thought I would burst into tears. “But someone has surely pulled the wool over your eyes,” she added.

  She continued to peer into the tea leaves, and when she did not say anything further, I pressed her. “What do you mean by that? Can you see who it is?”

  “I can’t see much, only that you have been thoroughly fooled.” She pursed her lips once more. “Maybe it will make more sense when I look at everyone’s cups.”

  Mint’s cup was next. “You have been closer to the answer than the others,” Barb said.

  We all looked at Mint with shock. “I can’t imagine why that would be.” Mint scratched her head.

  “Maybe it’s because of your friendship with Chris,” I said. “That reminds me, why were you keeping your relationship a secret from me?”

  Ruprecht tapped me lightly on my arm. “This is neither the time nor the place, Amelia.”

  “I was just embarrassed about it, that’s all,” Mint said.

  “That’s fine,” I said, waving one hand at her. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re both happy.”

  Ruprecht pointed to Barb. “Back to the subject at hand please.”

  “That’s all I can get out of this one, I’m afraid,” Barb said. “Now, who’s next?”

  Thyme slid her cup over to Barb.

  “Your cup seems the same as Amelia’s,” Barb said. “There’s very little difference in it, only Amelia seems slightly closer to discovering the murderer. May I have your cup, Ruprecht?”

  She turned the cup upside down and rotated it three times. “Aha!”

  “What it is?” Ruprecht leant over the table.

  “You’re the furthest from the truth,” she said.

  Ruprecht appeared horrified. “Why I never!” he said in disgust. “Does it say why? Usually I’m most competent in these matters.”

  Barb shook her head. “There is strong deception over this whole thing,” she said. “If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that someone has well and truly pulled the wool over your eyes.”

  “In that case, should we tell you the names of the suspects now?” Ruprecht said.

  “I’ll look at Camino’s cup and if I don’t find out anything, then perhaps you should tell me the n
ames of the suspects.”

  Camino slid her cup to Barb.

  Barb gasped when she looked into it.

  “Is there something bad in there?” Camino asked her in horror.

  “This has nothing to do with the case, but you will be in danger from a pumpkin.”

  We all exchanged glances. “Did you say I’m in danger from a pumpkin?” Camino said slowly.

  “It sounds a bit strange to me too,” Barb said. “I don’t have a clue what it means. It’s just the tea leaves are quite plain that you’re in danger from a pumpkin.”

  “You grow pumpkins in your back yard,” I said to Camino. “Maybe you’ll be in danger of tripping over one.”

  “And don’t stick your hand in the ground to pull one out, because a brown snake or a funnel-web spider might administer a fatal bite,” Ruprecht added.

  Camino trembled. “Now you’ve got me really scared. I’ll make sure I wear gardening gloves from now on.”

  “That will help you with a brown snake but not with a funnel-web spider,” Ruprecht pointed out.

  Camino threw up her hands in horror.

  Barbara motioned for silence. “No, no, no. I am talking about danger from an actual pumpkin itself. At least that’s what I think the tea leaves are saying. Anyway, it doesn’t appear to be imminent because the tea leaves show me it’s in the near future but not the imminent future.

  “Well now, back to the case,” Ruprecht said.

  “I want to hear more about the killer pumpkin,” Camino complained.

  “Do you have any more information about the pumpkin?” Ruprecht asked Barb. When she shook her head, he added, “Now shall we tell you the names of the suspects?”

  “Do go on.”

  “There’s Damon Stark, Maeve McKenzie, Prudence Pringle, and Yarrow Larkspur.”

  “We forgot all about Prudence Pringle earlier,” I said.

  Ruprecht put his finger to his lips. “Let us be quiet so Barb can concentrate.”

  Barb took back all our tea cups and looked at each one in turn. Finally, she spoke. “Not one of these people you mentioned is standing out to me.”

  Mint leant over to Ruprecht. “Grandfather, you didn’t mention Maeve McKenzie’s possible partner in crime, Bradley Wilson.”