Cousin Viv stands behind me to the right, my aunts to my left. I turn and clutch Cousin Viv’s hand, taking solace in the warm and encouraging smiles of my family.
I don’t know what I’d do without their moral support right now.
Family means everything, doesn’t it?
I can do this. I can do this.
I turn back around, just in time for the technical director to give me the nod. The cameras roll. It’s time for my speech. Suddenly, what feels like a hundred spotlights hit my face as a plethora of news media microphones shoot toward me on long poles, nearly stuffing themselves right under my nose. “Hello,” I croak rather shakily, shielding my eyes. “Good afternoon, all.”
I shuffle my papers and look out into the sea of faces below me. I’m not gonna lie; I feel a little panicked. Wide eyes stare up at me, through all the glaring lights, with faces wearing tight expressions. These people mean business. They’ve come here for answers, and I don’t have any.
What am I going to do?
I try my best not to stammer and continue on. “As you all know, there has been an incident.” The crowd lets out a groan. “A rather serious one. At our local fair,” I shout over the growing noise.
“Can you give us more details?” a reporter shouts.
“Is it true you’ve made an arrest?”
“They have apprehended the perpetrator? We hear you have someone in jail.”
“Did the murder actually happen on the stage like they say?”
Reporters pepper me with questions, left and right, all talking out of turn. I thought I was the only one who was supposed to be doing the talking. I don’t know what to do.
“Yes, and no, and yes, yes, there’s been an arrest. But it’s not been determined yet for sure that he’s the right person,” I add quickly, raising my hand and shouting over them.
“What’s to determine?” a woman spectator shouts from the back. “I was there. I saw it with my own eyes. The man is guilty!”
“Yeah!” another hollers.
“He killed her in cold blood! Right in front of all of us!”
“None of that is proven or true!” I shout above all their shouting.
“Whose fault is it, then, if it wasn’t his? He was the one left up on the stage!”
“A full and thorough investigation is underway, I assure you. But at this time, I’m afraid, that is all that I know—”
“She’s lying,” a shrill voice cuts the air. “She knows exactly what happened and exactly whose fault this is.”
My head cranks around, searching for the speaker beyond the blinding lights. At last, I spot her, standing to the left of my podium in the front row, her chubby-little hands balled into tight fists around the pearl strap of her shell-encrusted clutch. Mrs. Dumfries. Of course.
She steps out of the front row, into the limelight. “She knows exactly who’s fault this is and why it’s happened. She’s just not telling you!” she shouts, eager for the attention of the cameras and microphones that swing her way. “It’s easy. It’s hers!” She swings an arm back at me. “She’s to blame. Just like she has been to blame for every other bad thing that’s happened in this town since she arrived here. Her and her bizarre, eccentric family!”
My aunts and cousin gasp behind me as the crowd ignites into jeers.
“Don’t you see?” she shouts over the commotion, glaring back at us, her nostrils flaring. “There is something wrong with all of them—something wickedly supernatural that has been causing unrest since the very moment they arrived in Hex Falls!”
Oh no…
“I’ve felt it in my bones since the moment I met them!” Mrs. Dumfries pounds her chest, causing the microphones to throw feedback. “How else do you explain the witchery that occurred that first night up at Hex Hall, at her strange relative’s grand opening, where they cast me under a spell?”
The crowd shrieks and falls backward.
“That was nothing but a cheap parlor trick,” Cousin Viv snorts, raising her hand.
“A cheap parlor trick that left marks on my neck where I was bitten by a Vampire.” In a dramatic movement, Mrs. Dumfries pulls aside the collar of her blouse, to reveal…
…absolutely nothing.
The scars are gone, of course. Removed during the work my aunts and cousin did on her, to rid her body of all magical residue.
I glance back to see my aunts and cousin exchanging secret congratulatorily high fives.
“Well, they were here before, I swear.” Mrs. Dumfries glares down at where the scars should be, losing her control on the crowd.
“Can we please move on now to the matter at hand?” I say into the microphone.
“Oh no, you don’t! You’ll not get away with it this time,” Mrs. Dumfries shouts, racing up onto the stage and stealing my microphone. “Think about it!” She turns back to the crowd. “Ever since these…people…or whatever they are arrived in our town, bad things have been happening.” She shakes. “One after the other. Four now in total. And they’re always involved. Strange and deadly happenings!” she shrieks. “From what happened to me, to the tragedy with the visiting countess, to the strange relative found dead on their lawn. Not to mention, how mysteriously, just hours later, his body goes missing from the morgue!”
“That body was returned, and you know it!” I shout. Oh gods… what am I doing? I can’t play into her hand.
“And now this has happened!” she shouts over me. “One dead and one severely injured at our beloved fair! The fourth deadly thing to go wrong in Hex Falls in the short time they’ve lived here!” She slings a finger arrow out in our direction, and I gasp. “Unless of course, the death toll’s gone up overnight.” She glares at me. That’s when I notice the color of her eyes—soulless and dark, like two swirling pots of black coffee.
My heart races, pushing against the cage of my rib, as I remember. Last night, just before she took her seat in the magic tent, her eyes were like that. So were the man in black.
The warlock possession. The mark of magic.
“It’s like someone was trying to fight back.”
Could the warlock have been inside her then?
Or worse, could it have been the Druen?
I look up.
Is she the Druen now?
I feel my throat beginning to constrict as the crowd continues to yammer and stir.
“Please, can we get back to the press conference?” I croak, stealing the microphone back from her.
“What about that countess, hmm, hmm?” she leans over, shouting into it. “The poor woman whose only mistake was to throw a murder mystery party up at crazy relative’s establishment—and wound up dead for her troubles!”
“A death that was all thoroughly investigated by our very own Sheriff Wilkes!” I shout back. “Where it was found she was murdered by one of her very own guests—a guest she invited to the party.”
“Well, that’s what we were led to believe at the time. But with you involved, who can really be sure?” She narrows her eyes at me.
“Are you doubting the police work of our own Sheriff Jeremy Wilkes?” I scowl.
“Who knows?” She shrugs. “Perhaps you put a hex on him like you did to me the night of your relative’s creepy grand opening!”
“We’ve already been over this!” I shout, causing more feedback in the microphone.
“I tell you these people are poison! Poison!” she shrieks.
“And I assure you, neither myself, nor my family had anything to do with what we’re talking about today!” Okay…so, maybe that’s a lie. I don’t know yet. But most of us are innocent. At least, I hope. One is for sure. And he’s the one in jail.
“Now, can we please get back to the facts at hand?”
And for goodwitchsakes can somebody please gag that woman.
“But the assistant is dead, isn’t she?” a reporter calls out.
“And you are holding someone in jail?”
Oh gods…
“How is the sheriff?
How bad were his injuries?”
“Is he going to live?”
“Yes, and yes, and Sheriff Wilkes is in serious but stable condition, expected to make a full recovery,” I blurt.
Okay. So much for not sharing information. You were going to be vague, remember?
What happened to vague?
“What about the knife-thrower from the magical circus show. Where is he?” another reporter shouts up to me.
“She is still at large, I’m afraid,” I answer, tripping over my words. Oh gods, there I go again.
“What about the man on the stage at the end of the act? He’s the real murderer! Where is he?” an old lady shouts from the back.
“Yeah!” The crowd rolls their fists in the air, and chants, “We want him! We want him!”
I swear, if they had pitchforks, they’d be storming the stage right now. I’ve got to regain control of this. “Let’s all just try to settle down, shall we?” I push at the air with my hands.
“Settle down when an innocent woman is dead?”
“Yeah!” the crowd shouts.
“That woman was right.” Another woman stands. “Things were peaceful here in Hex Falls until you and your family showed up!”
Oh great galloping Gatsby, how do I stop this?
“You’re right!” Mrs. Dumfries jumps up. “She’s is a witch, I tell you, a witch! They all are. Bringing misfortune and curses to our town!”
Oh, not this again…
“Mrs. Dumfries, please, if you can’t contain yourself, I’m afraid, I’m going to have to—”
“She’s a witch with a dirty little secret.” She cuts me off.
Oh, gods…not this…
“You see, I know what she’s been up to in that manor up on the hill.” She points to it, glaring back at me. “And it’s not been decorating….”
This has to stop. Now.
“I’m afraid that’s all just simply not true,” a deep voice speaks up from behind me before I have the chance to speak again. “Not a word of it, I’m afraid.” Jamie, Jeremy’s twin, steps out of the shadows, and onto the stage, shaking his head. He looks down into the confused eyes of the crowd and breaks into an all-knowing smile. “I’ll admit I have not known this woman long, but from what I’ve seen of her so far, no one should be passing such judgment on her character.”
He glares first at Mrs. Dumfries, then glances over at me and smiles, before continuing, “The countess’ killer was, in fact, apprehended, booked, tried, and found guilty of her murder, by Sheriff Wilkes, and is now serving a life sentence for her crime up at the big house in Coal City, not far from where I work,” he tells them. “As for the missing body, it was returned, as Miss Vance indicated, as is duly noted in Sheriff Wilkes’s police files. And the so-called witchery you claim that occurred up at Hex Hall”—He pauses to look at Mrs. Dumfries—“was exactly that. Nothing but a parlor trick.”
The crowd grumbles.
“How do I know all this?” Jamie continues. “Because my brother told me.”
He tears off his sunglasses and ballcap he’s wearing, to reveal his full face, the exact likeness of his brothers. The crowd audibly gasps and falls back.
“I’m Jamie Wilkes, Sheriff Jeremy Wilkes’ twin brother, lead forensic specialist up in Coal City, and more recently and—more importantly—this area’s newly appointed marshal.”
That shuts Mrs. Dumfries up.
“I would also like to attest to the fact that Miss Vance was instrumental in helping my brother solve all those crimes, bringing those criminals to justice—not being the cause of them.” He pauses again to smile at me. “In fact, she was so much help, that I’ve asked her to join me on this current murder investigation, one I’ll be conducting in my brother’s absence.”
Reporters’ heads drop as they rush to take down the note.
“With any luck, the two of us will bring the perpetrator to justice, and we’ll be back standing here before you very soon with all the information you’re seeking.” He smiles into the cameras. “Until then, I ask that the public stop speculating and stand down until our investigation is complete.” He glares over at Mrs. Dumfries, whose mouth is hanging open like she’s trolling for flies. “And that includes the spreading of any conspiracy theories.” Mrs. Dumfries’ mouth finally shuts. “Now, if we could get on with the press conference—” He peers out over the rest of the gape-mouthed crowd. “I believe Miss Vance has some brief, but valuable, information she’d like to share with you.”
Chapter 22
“Wow. That was impressive. Thank you so, so much. I don’t know what happened there,” I say to Jamie when it’s over, flushing with embarrassment.
“Mob mentality,” he says. “With a touch of hysteria.”
I grin.
“Don’t worry about it.” He pats my shoulder. “My first press conference was a disaster too.”
“It was?”
“Yeah, but you get used to it after a while.”
“Oh, I won’t be doing another one.”
“Who says?” He smiles. “I was wondering,” he lowers his chin, “could you meet me at The Bottom of the Cauldron again, whenever you’re finished here. I’d love to discuss more of the case.”
“Sure.” I shrug, blushing again, feeling suddenly giddy as a schoolgirl.
Stop that, Violet.
“Great. So, I’ll meet you in about an hour.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He nods and is away, hopping down the steps from the podium, heading across the big open lawn toward his car, as I pack up my things and head the opposite way.
“Who was that?” Sotherby pops in, floating along at my side as I cross the large lawn to my car. “Because if I didn’t know better, I’d say it was—” His head swivels backward and forward.
“Jeremy?” I say, pulling to a stop.
“Why, y-yes,” Sotherby say, squinting. “Only he seems to be larger and—”
“Even more fit? I know.” I walk on.
“What do you mean, you know?” He chases after me. “I thought you said the dolt had been injured.” He gazes again back over his shoulder.
“I did. I mean he has… I mean, stop calling him a dolt!” I shout, scowling at him, frustrated. “Have a little respect for the injured, will you?”
“Well, if he’s been injured, who the hex is that?”
“That is Jamie. Jeremy’s twin brother,” I point out.
“Twin brother?” He blinks. “There are two dolts?”
“Uuuuh!” I growl.
He narrows his eyes and glares back at Jamie again. “The resemblance really is uncanny, isn’t it?”
“That’s the way it is with identical twins.” I keep walking.
“So, they are exactly alike, in every way?”
I whirl around, my brows crunched. “If you must know, when I first met Jeremy, he got all the brawn while his brother got all the brains, and well…he was half right.” I toss up my chin and march on.
“Ah, so she admits the dolt is a dolt.”
“I didn’t say that!” I turn and snap. “I simply stated his brother is indeed very clever.”
“Is he now?” He knits his brows.
“What’s it to you, anyway?” I frown.
“Nothing, I suppose.” He throws back his shoulders. “Just wondering what’s he doing here.”
“He’s come to help me, of course.”
“Help you what?” Sotherby swirls around in front of me.
“Solve the murder case.” I quirk a brow. “Wow, haven’t you been eavesdropping?”
Sotherby’s scorn pulls into a scowl. “What do you need with him, anyway?” he blurts. “I mean, why can’t you just do it? You did such a fine job the last time. And you required almost no help at all. So, what do you need with the dolt’s brother now?” He looks indignant on my behalf.
“Well, for one, I’m afraid the mortal world frowns upon interior decorators playing detective without proper supervision. And
two,” I hold up two fingers, “for the last time the man is not a dolt!” I shout, launching up onto my toes.
Sotherby bristles. “I still don’t understand.” He floats after me. “You’ve more than proven yourself in the field. That must stand for something.”
“Maybe in your day, Sotherby, but not mine.”
“But surely, if they only knew of your past—”
“They must never know of my past.” I whirl around, glaring at him. Sotherby pulls back. “Besides, it wouldn’t matter anyway, Sotherby.” I turn and keep walking. “I am not the real thing. Not anymore. Thus, I must concede to those who are.” I waggle my head. “Even if his formal papers aren’t in yet,” I mutter.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Besides, it’ll be good having Jamie around.”
“Why is that?” Sotherby says.
“Because he can help legitimize any findings I might have.” I cockily lift my chin. “Just like Jeremy always does,” I whisper.
“Ah I knew it! I knew it was all you!” Sotherby flings a righteous finger into the air. “That dolt didn’t solve a thing.”
“That’s not true,” I whirl back around. “He did in your case. He was very helpful, in fact. The case of the countess though, not so much…” I waggle my head.
Jamie tosses me a light, three-fingered wave, driving away and I smile and toss him one back.
“What’s that’s all about?”
“Just being charitable,” I say and continue across the lawn. “Goodness, you’re a bit touchy, aren’t you?”
“Apparently not touchy enough.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” Sotherby scrambles after me.
“Again, what does it matter to you, anyway?”
“It doesn’t. It… It’s just—well…won’t that mean you’ll be spending a lot of time together?” he asks.
“Likely. Why?” I arch a brow.
“Oh…I don’t know—”
“If you’re worried about the progression of your parlor, you needn’t be. I have no intentions of letting my decorating commitments slip over this murder case.”
Abracastabra (Hex Falls Paranormal Cozy Mystery # 4) (Hex Falls Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series) Page 13
