The Witch's Blood_A Cozy Witch Mystery
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Could there be a murderer here? Zoey remembered the conversation with Delphine about murderers who otherwise seemed like perfectly nice and reasonable people. Yeah, either one of them could have done it.
*****
A quick phone consult with Justine uncovered a contact address for Lloyd Bacon. His house was modest, but the Mercedes-Benz in his driveway was not. No one answered the door, but Zoey had spotted some activity behind the house as she came up the driveway. This was no time to be shy.
Zoey could smell Lloyd Bacon’s rose garden even before she saw it. It was a heavy full-bodied perfume, the kind of heavenly fragrance that had haunted her during her incarceration, almost on-par with mangoes.
As she got closer, the rose garden became a complete feast for the senses, particularly sight and velvety touch. Lloyd had arranged the colors of his garden in rainbow fashion, starting with pink, which flowed into red, which flowed into orange, which flowed into yellow. They were all gigantic blossoms, at their peak. For a fleeting moment, Zoey wondered if they were the kind of roses that people bred for competitions.
“Are you delivering something?” Lloyd Bacon asked.
“No. I was hoping I could ask you some questions about Franklin Churchill.”
“And here I was hoping that you might provide some answers. How did you . . . how were you referred to me?”
“Your name came up in the . . . aftermath of a police interrogation.”
“And you are?”
“I’m someone who is very interested in solving Franklin Churchill’s death.”
Lloyd grimaced. “I, on the other hand, place a greater priority on solving Franklin Churchill’s life.”
“That sounds . . . rather existential. Could you elaborate?”
“Who is Franklin Churchill?” Lloyd asked.
“Not a very nice guy, I gather.”
“I was not asking about his character. But his identity. You know about our partnership? Good. The hotel was a big success from the moment it opened. This whole town was starting to become a real destination. And while flip-flops and snow cones are all very well and good, we wanted to offer an exquisite experience of luxury. Living at its highest level.”
“Like your roses.”
She had hit on the one point where Lloyd was most susceptible to flattery.
“They are rather fine, aren’t they? Thank you, my dear. They are one of my few remaining consolations after losing the hotel. That place should have been a roaring success. It should have secured my retirement. But the revenues were disappointing. And after the first three years, I couldn’t repay the loans I had taken out to renovate, and so I had to sell my share to Franklin.
“But I could never shake my suspicions that perhaps he had cooked the books. I hired a detective to find out more about him. Do you know what he found out? That Franklin Churchill does not exist. Or at least, he had a past, but it only went back about seven years. Before then, there was no trace of him.”
“So, Franklin Churchill . . . ?”
“Is an alias. And a rather pompous one at that. He spliced together two historical figures. I don’t know why it never occurred to me that it was a made-up name. Franklin Churchill. It really does sound made-up, doesn’t it?”
“You’re right. It really does. So, why would he change his name?”
“You seem rather well-connected to the police. I’m sure you can find out.”
Fat chance. I’m a suspect, just like you. But you really don’t need to hear that right now. Long story.
*****
There are yachts and there are yachts. The floating mansion that Susan Sidwell had hired had a cavernous interior that could have hosted a party of over fifty people with ease. Instead, their actual party only numbered seven—Susan, her entourage, and Zoey—and a hired crew of five. Zoey was less and less inclined to begrudge Susan Sidwell’s good fortune, particularly when the woman was so willing to share it with others.
Everyone was enjoying the air and sun on the top deck. Ajax had been particularly chatty and attentive, and at the moment, he was receiving steering lessons from the captain while Susan and Zoey stood at the front railing and became better acquainted.
“I love these people,” Susan said. “Each and every one of them. Okay, maybe not Nikki. She’s new. But everyone else. They’re my friends. My family. But they’re also my employees. And they have to be here. And unless I want stories circulating of sad, lonely Susan Sidwell who doesn’t have anyone to travel with, I always have to surround myself with a big group of people. Believe me, if I traveled alone, I would never hear the end of it. That must sound very ridiculous to you. It must sound like a . . .”
“First-world problem?”
Both women laughed heartily.
Zoey continued, “Highest elite pinnacle of the first world, no less.”
“But tumbling down, hard and fast. I’m forty years old. I don’t get the best offers anymore. The ones that could lead to the big award. Oh, I’m not complaining. I got offered a lot of great box office hits. Love stories. Comedies. Sweet girl next door. Sexy girl next door. Even a few action films.”
“Weren’t you . . . didn’t I remember seeing on a magazine somewhere that you were . . . ”
“Yeah. The highest-paid actress in Hollywood. For that year, which was about nine years ago now. Thankfully, I still have most of that money, and it doesn’t look as if it will ever run out, even with the occasional splurge on a yacht. I just hate the thought of . . . being over.”
“A has-been.”
“Thank you. When you step out of Hollywood, everyone is so refreshingly blunt. Yes, a has-been.”
“One of the best careers in screen history, ridiculously gorgeous, even at forty, and so much money in the bank that your great-great grandkids won’t even be able to spend it all. So, what else do you want to complain about, Princess?”
Zoey got a kick out of calling someone else Princess. It was a common nickname for frightened newbies in the prison.
“You jest, but I’m not done complaining. I haven’t had sex in . . . six months.”
“Stop. Stop. Any sex you haven’t had is your own fault. You could just snap your fingers and get pretty much anyone you wanted. I am the one here who needs sympathy. I haven’t had sex in over eight years!”
The enormous surprise in Susan’s eyes quickly gave way to enormous amusement, and Zoey followed the direction of Susan’s gaze to Ajax, who was standing right behind her.
“First, learning how to steer, and now this. It has been one of the most educational days I can remember in a long, long time. Suzy, the caterer would like to have a word with you to make sure our feast is set up properly. Don’t worry. I’ll take your place here.”
Susan exited with a big grin, and Ajax turned to Zoey in mock-amazement.
“This is really what they mean by girl talk? ’Cause I am all in favor of it. And since I’ve been told that it’s very important to get in touch with my feminine side, I want to play this game too. So, you’ve got to be wondering how long it’s been since I’ve had sex. Aren’t you? Aren’t you?”
“I don’t have the slightest interest in . . . how long it’s been.”
“I’m a little hurt. Go on, take a guess. I’ll tell you if you’re warm. I’ll tell you higher or lower. Oh, and let’s make it interesting. If you get it right within five guesses, you win a free steering lesson with the captain.”
“How on earth could I even begin to–to . . . six weeks?”
“That’s the spirit. But no, not six weeks, alas. Bit longer.”
“Four months?”
“Very reasonable guess. But still too low.”
“Don’t you live in Hollywood?”
“And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”
“Nightclubs. Orgies.”
Ajax gave a hearty laugh. “Say, you just gave me a great idea. I think that a nightclub named Orgy would be a smash hit. Next guess.”
“Six months?”
“Really? I hadn’t thought of that. So . . . okay. What about . . . eight years?”
“Eight years? Are you nuts? That would make me a freak!”
Talking about sex with Ajax seemed like a very risky business, given the state of Zoey’s unpredictable powers. Who knows what her mind would reach out for? Best to circumvent it. Think about mangoes. Think about mangoes . . .
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next afternoon, Zoey decided to have a little picnic lunch at the local Central Park. She brought Rocky with her for company. Susan Sidwell wasn’t the only one who needed an entourage. She brought along a yummy can of gourmet kitty snacks for him, but he still took more interest in her food than his own.
When he wandered too close to her sandwich, she held her hand out and the sandwich floated right into it, out of Rocky’s reach.
“Wow! How did you do that? That was so cool. Mom! Come over here. You have to see this. You’ll do it again, wont you? Do it so my mom can see it.”
Uh-oh. She hadn’t noticed the ten-year-old boy walking nearby. He didn’t seem too spooked, though. Just excited. His mother joined him, unsure of what was going on.
“She just did this amazing trick, Mom. Are you a magician? You must be. Can you show my mom that trick you did? I want to see it again too.”
The mother waited expectantly. “Go ahead. I love tricks.”
Zoey had to think fast. She had to show them something that looked like an average, ordinary human trick and not an I’ve got witch blood kind of trick. She took a piece of candy and waved her hand suggestively over it, and then with both hands just a few inches away from the candy, she appeared to coax the candy to levitate just a few inches into the air. Nothing too wildly improbable, but still good magic. Both mother and son gasped with pleasure, and Zoey let the candy drop back in the palm of her hand.
“How wonderful,” the mother gushed. “You must be a professional. You do parties, yes? This is such great timing. I’m throwing a surprise party for my uncle Richie, about seventy people. Family. Friends. Kids. It’s a week from Saturday. How much do you charge for, say, an hour-long show? Five hundred? Plus dinner? We’ve got a really great dinner planned. And I’ve never been to a party with a female magician. I think that would be really great for the girls to see. Great for all of us. Can you do it?”
With all that was going on, Zoey had not lost sight of the fact that the money was running out, especially after the real estate tax payment had been made. She was going to need a job, and not just for expenses. As Justine had suggested, if she found herself in court fighting for custody, she would need to prove some kind of income. Certainly, she could fake her way through a magic show.
“That would be great. I just need your number and address.”
“Here you go, and you be sure to bring your card with you as well. Lots of them. I know we’ve got quite a few kids’ birthdays coming up in the family.”
After they left her, Zoey wolfed down her lunch excitedly. This could work out. If she could use her powers to fake being a magician and get $500 for working only an hour, how many shows a week could she line up? Two? Five? It was a possible means to a decent income. Decent income and a decent home to live in. It was everything that she needed in order to prepare to claim her daughter. She was just lacking one critical thing. Her daughter’s trust.
*****
Zoey had Rocky cradled in her arms as she entered Dr. Svenson’s home.
“I hope you don’t mind if I brought my new friend, Rocky. He’s been through some rough times and I just need to teach him that there are good people in the world whom he can trust.”
As Zoey entered the living room, she was greeted by the sight of Camille, sitting on the sofa, clutching the hand of Melody Glover, the doctor’s wife. Zoey was instantaneously relieved to see that her daughter had connected with a kind person who would keep her safe and heartbroken that it wasn’t her own hand that Camille reached out to in times of insecurity.
The doctor gestured for Zoey to sit down across from her daughter. “We have spoken to Camille, Zoey, and we told her that people often make mistakes. And that her daddy made a mistake when he thought that you were dead. But he also made a mistake when he thought that you were a bad criminal. And the judge and the jury also made a terrible mistake when they sent you to prison.
“Because you didn’t do any of those bad things. It was a terrible mistake. And it is a shame that you two have not had a chance to get to know one another. But we’ll try to do something about that now because you are both such excellent people.”
“Thank you, Dr. Svenson. I sure do appreciate your talking to Camille about that. It’s true, honey. I’m not a criminal, and I didn’t do anything bad. And I spent the last eight years in prison, separated from you, because people believed that I did something that I didn’t do.”
Camille inhaled deeply. “So, you’re really not bad?”
“I’m actually quite good. And I’m so happy to finally get a chance to get to know you.”
“Does . . . does Daddy know that he made a mistake? Does he know that you didn’t do anything wrong?”
Zoey tried to keep a very neutral face. “Yes, he knows that I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Does that mean that you’re going to come and live with me and Daddy?”
“I would love to live with you, honey. I’m not sure that living in the hotel is a good idea for me. Although you can meet a lot of nice people in a hotel, you’re also surrounded by so many strange people every day. I think it’s a lot more comfortable to live in your own house, don’t you?”
“There are a lot of strange people in the hotel. A lot of them come to our apartment. I guess they’re friends of Daddy’s. Or maybe business friends—I think that’s what he calls them. I just usually go to my room when they have work to do.”
Drug suppliers. Drug customers. Around her daughter! Zoey wanted to thrash her ex. But she had to hang onto her calm exterior.
“Also, hotels probably don’t allow cats. Just when Rocky and I have been becoming such good friends.”
Camille had taken a strong interest in Rocky ever since he and Zoey entered. “What’s wrong with his ear?”
“Well, unfortunately, cats fight with each other a lot of the time. I don’t think that Rocky really wanted to fight, but sometimes, you have to defend yourself if it can’t be avoided. I’m sure that Rocky has won his fair share of fights, but the ear thing . . . yeah, I think he probably lost a few as well. He’s probably thirsty. It’s such a warm day. Maybe you could get him a bowl of water?”
Camille leapt off the sofa and made a dash for the kitchen.
“Thank you. Thank you both. If it was any other foster family, I don’t think they’d let me see her. Not with my prison record.”
“She is a wonderful girl, and it has been a pleasure,” Melody assured her. “But as much as I love having her with us, we will both be thrilled the day that she is able to go home with you.”
“How are you getting along?” the doctor asked meaningfully.
Zoey got the distinct feeling that Melody was not aware of the witch component of Oyster Cove life. “Well, I joined a meditation class. I thought that it would be very helpful to be able to . . . control my thoughts. Stop them from careening out of control.”
“That is a very good idea. Is it working?”
“Slow progress, but yes, I definitely see improvement. I also may have found an income. I just got a job, $500 to perform as a magician. And it might be something I can do regularly.”
“You can do magic tricks?” a surprised Camille asked, entering the room holding a bowl of water for Rocky.
“Is that what you used to do before . . . before . . . ” Melody asked, not wanting to mention prison again.
“Actually, they provide all kinds of vocational training in prison, a
nd that’s where I learned to do magic tricks. So that I could work as a magician.” It was a pretty big lie, but how else was she going to explain her unusual abilities?
“Can you show us a trick right now?” Camille asked.
Well, Zoey certainly wasn’t going to turn down the first thing her daughter ever asked of her. “Can you find me a small stick, something that I could use as a wand?”
Camille quickly retrieved a ruler from her play area. Zoey got on the ground where Rocky was slurping up water from the bowl.
“Here we have a solid bowl. An ordinary bowl. Nothing special about it. Or is there?”
Zoey used the ruler to tap the edges and all sides of the bowl, much to Rocky’s annoyance, and then waved her hands over it mysteriously. The bowl levitated about six inches from the ground, and Zoey dramatically used the ruler to swipe the space underneath it to show that there was nothing holding it up. Melody and Camille were both dazzled and impressed. The doctor did his best not to laugh out loud at the sight of real magic being passed off as fake magic.
*****
Zoey practically floated away from the doctor’s house on a cloud of happiness. She had glimpsed a vision of a future together with her daughter and was determined to do everything in her power to make it real.
The one thing that could ruin her dreams was another false conviction. She absolutely had to figure out who killed Franklin Churchill. As unappealing as the idea was, Lloyd Bacon was right—she needed to talk to the police to figure out why Franklin Churchill had just appeared out of nowhere seven years ago.
Zoey called the police office and they told her that Officer Finn Cochran was over at The Grand Hotel conducting more interviews. That was just as well since there were a few people over there whom she also wouldn’t mind speaking to.
Finn Cochran and concierge Arthur Frost were holed up in Franklin Churchill’s private back office, combing through his files and papers, looking for his will and any other potential clues to his murder. While she waited for Finn to be available, Zoey had asked to speak to Caitlin Murdoch, the housekeeper. It was Caitlin’s lunch break, which she did not want to miss, but she said she wouldn’t mind answering a few questions down in the employee break room as long as she could finish up her meal.