Murder At The Coven: A Witch Cozy Mystery (A Bluebell Knopps Cozy Mystery Book 3)

by Nancy McGovern

Angelina shushed him, looking over her shoulder to see if Hector was still asleep.

  “It’s true and you know it,” Ewan said. “No use denying it.”

  “The investigation hasn’t even started yet,” Oliver said. “It’s far too early to point fingers at anyone.”

  Bluebell sat silently, blocking out their conversation. Mentally, she was trying to recreate how the library had looked. In the center, there had been the chandelier, and Sutter’s body crushed under it. Bluebell shuddered a little at the memory. But she forced herself to work past it. What else had she seen?

  The window. The library window was open and… it had been closed when they’d been in the room earlier. She was sure of it. What else? What was she missing? She closed her eyes, trying to visualize it.

  The large desk at one end, it had a cup on it. A red cup with Happy Birthday written on it. Sutter’s glasses were on it, as was his phoenix-shaped ashtray. What else? A copy of Us Weekly. But the cigar… the cigar… where was it?

  Opening her eyes, she found Oliver staring at her. “Are you all right?” he asked. “You’re not traumatized too badly, are you? I know this has been a weird weekend.”

  “I’m fine,” Bluebell said. “I hardly knew him at all, so if anything, I’ll suffer the least. But Oliver, I have a question. When we were in the library, did you see the cigar? Sutter’s cigar?”

  Oliver nodded. “It was on the floor,” he said.

  Instantly, the image flashed into Bluebell’s mind. The cigar had been on the floor. It had been stamped on, in fact, and the footprint… she was too far away to tell, but when she thought about it, she was almost certain that they’d find the same footprint in the garden bed.

  “What happened?” Oliver asked, quite alert. He saw the expressions on her face, surprise one moment, then thoughtful consideration. “You saw something, Bluebell. What is it?”

  “I…” Before she could answer, the ghost butler had appeared with two men tagging behind him.

  “Mr. Oliver, sir,” the butler said. “These men say they’re here to see you about… about Mr. Sutter’s death.”

  “Yes, of course.” Oliver got up and greeted the men. Like him, they were dressed in navy blue suits with ivory shirts, however, the cut of their suits were far less expensive than his, and they had badges pinned on their chests.

  “Officers.” Oliver nodded. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Officer Bruce Chadwick and Officer Leighton Pierce. They’re colleagues of mine and will be spearheading the investigation.”

  “If they manage to find the killer, I think we’ll all be more than delighted,” Gertrude said.

  “Yes ma’am,” Officer Chadwick said. “Our team is going to take this very seriously.”

  “Chadwick, stay here will you? I’ll show Leighton to the library.”

  Chadwick nodded and stood beside the door. Oliver headed out with Leighton, then hesitated, looked over his shoulder at Bluebell, and crooked his finger. “You come with us, Blue,” he said.

  “What? Why are you involving her?” Mathilda looked shocked.

  “Let’s just say I offered her an internship once before, and I’m offering it to her once more,” Oliver said. “Come on, Blue.”

  Bluebell hopped off the stool and followed them. It was better than sitting in the bar at any rate. Inside the library, a team of men were bagging the evidence and taking photographs. One woman with earphones around her head was waving what looked like a black transistor, while another scribbled into his notebook.

  “At ease,” Officer Pierce said. “So ladies and gentlemen, any luck?”

  “Magic has definitely been used in this room,” the woman with the transistor said. “Very recently too. We can’t quite untangle what spells have been used because, well, Sutter clearly did a lot of spells in here himself. That can mess up the detection a little.”

  “But we know spells have been used today?” Oliver asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Then Hector was probably right about someone using magic to cut the chandelier’s cable,” Oliver said.

  “I can corroborate that,” the woman replied. “It definitely looks that way.”

  Oliver smiled. “Thanks Tanya.”

  “What about the footprint there?” Officer Pierce pointed.

  “Well, someone stamped on the cigar and hoofed it out the window,” another officer said. “We found a footprint in the flowerbed outside.”

  “I think I can help with that!” Bluebell exclaimed. Excitedly, she told the story of the figure she’d see climbing down the pipes. She took out the black plastic object she’d found.

  Oliver turned the rectangle this way and that, and looked at her quizzically. “Well?” he asked. “What does it do?”

  “I don’t know,” Bluebell said. “I tried pressing the button, but it didn’t do anything.”

  Oliver pressed it too, once and then again. Nothing happened. “Is it broken?” he asked, whacking it with the palm of his hands a few times. “Tanya, do you think you can figure out what it is?”

  “It’s a remote control of some kind,” Tanya said. “But I don’t know what it does.”

  “Ok. Bag it.” Oliver handed it to one of the officers. “We’ll figure it out soon enough.”

  Officer Pierce was frowning. “I don’t understand,” he said. “So Bluebell, what time was it when you saw this figure?”

  “Just before 6pm,” Bluebell said. “I remember because I went inside, and then Angelina asked me what time it was immediately after.”

  “Yes, and then Gertrude came and told you she’d heard raised voices in the library, right?” Oliver asked.

  “Right.”

  “So, it doesn’t make any sense,” Oliver said. “Whoever it was, why did they come there before the murder even happened?”

  “Perhaps you’re wrong about it being one of you,” Officer Pierce said. “Perhaps the murderer is a stranger who was lurking around the estate.”

  “I wish it were that way,” Oliver said. “I really do wish that. But it can’t be. There are alarms to alert us of intruders here. No. One of us has surely done it.”

  “In that case,” Officer Pierce said, “I can’t in good conscience allow you to overlook the investigation. Come back to the bar with me, will you? We’ve got to question the others, and you two as well.”

  *****

  Chapter 7

  Hector’s Alibi

  When they entered the bar again, Hector was awake. Instantly, Bluebell noted the expression of fear on his face, and the way he sat alone and miserable on the sofa, while everyone else in the coven sat around the bar.

  Officer Chadwick and Pierce led Oliver away to another room for the first interview. Feeling a little bad for Hector, Bluebell went and sat beside him. He had a glass of whisky in his hand.

  “Hey.” He smiled at her. When she’d met him this morning, there was life and vitality in his viking-face. Now, beneath his beard, his face seemed far too wan. He gulped at the whisky as if he were gasping for air.

  Bluebell didn’t really know what to say. He said it first.

  “They all think I did it,” he said in a whisper, nodding towards the rest, who sat with their backs to him. “But you… you don’t, do you?”

  “I don’t think so,” Bluebell said, though she didn’t really know what to believe. Hector had looked nervous when Sutter had made his ominous comments. But was one look enough to convict a man? Not in Bluebell’s books. Hector might be large and scary looking to some, but to Bluebell he looked like a big teddy bear. “Hector, was there something Sutter knew about you?” Bluebell asked. “You might as well talk about it, because it’s going to come out eventually. The detectives won’t give up.”

  “Knew? About me? No! No of course not!” Hector shook his head fiercely. “He couldn’t know.”

  “He couldn’t know what?”

  “He couldn’t know anything because there’s nothing to know,” Hector said quickly. “Right. That’s what I meant
obviously.”

  “Hector.” Bluebell sighed. It was no use. Of course he’d feel this way. Why had she thought he would confide in her?

  “The thing is, I have no alibi,” Hector said. “I have no alibi, and the rest of the group are going to turn against me. I should call a lawyer, shouldn’t I? I’m being stupid.”

  “They’re your coven, Hector. They won’t turn on you.”

  “One of them murdered Sutter,” Hector said. “Don’t tell me they won’t turn on me. I should have known this would happen. I always warned Sutter politics are dangerous. But he was this hot headed activist. He fielded so many death threats back in the 70s, you know? But he thought he was immortal, that nothing could touch him. Oh… he had so many good years left! Who would do such a thing?”

  “You wouldn’t,” Bluebell said. “Right?”

  “Of course, I wouldn’t. I’ve known him for so long…” Hector’s lower lip trembled. “Oh I wish I hadn’t spent the afternoon getting drunk. I could have helped him!”

  “You met him today, didn’t you?” Bluebell asked. “Ewan mentioned that you left the bar to meet him.”

  Hector got cautious again. “Well, yes. We had a nice discussion and then I left and spent the afternoon getting drunk. That’s all.”

  “What did you talk about?” Bluebell asked.

  “That’s… I don’t remember,” Hector said. “Does it matter?”

  “You were one of the last people to see him alive,” Bluebell said. “Of course it matters. How did he look? Was he nervous? Afraid?”

  “Far from it,” Hector said. “He was having fun. Sutter loves drama. He loved drama, I mean.” Hector’s eyes welled up as he corrected himself to use the past tense. “Sutter was waiting for the confrontation with whoever it was, he was waiting to lay down the law upon them. He had no idea… how dangerous the situation was.”

  “Why?”

  “I think it’s that activist blood,” Hector said. “Seeing evil men do their penance, righting wrongs, all that sort of thing excited him, and he hadn’t done anything exciting in a while. Plus, like I said, Sutter was a powerful magician. In a duel, he could very easily take down any of us. I think he could probably take down all of us at once, actually.”

  “Interesting,” Bluebell said. “So no one could best him in a duel?”

  “Not a chance,” Hector said. “This was an act of cunning. They lured him under that chandelier and then struck somehow, whoever they are.” Hector paled. “What if it’s a conspiracy? What if it’s all of them?”

  “I’m sure that isn’t the case,” Bluebell said soothingly. “But… those activist days of his. Did he ever make any enemies?”

  “Well, he had people who were pretty opposed to his views,” Hector said. “Witches have always been proud of their femininity and tied their craft to it. So here was this hippie troublemaker telling them to welcome men into their ranks. They thought he was a pig and it took a lot of time for them to open up to him, or to any of us. Male wizards have always existed, but until the witches opened up and allowed us access to their knowledge, we weren’t a very powerful bunch.”

  “Do you remember any of the people who threatened him?”

  Hector laughed. “Practically every powerful witch in the country threatened him at some point, I think. Even our very own Gertrude Pruneridge.”

  “Gertrude?” Bluebell raised an eyebrow. “She threatened him?”

  “Oh, yes.” Hector nodded. “She was anti-wizard for a long time. She had plenty of reasons to dislike him. But they had a strange chemistry together. Hate breeds love sometimes, though the shape of that love is always essentially twisted.”

  Bluebell looked over at Gertrude, who was sipping from a tall glass of ice and some fizzy liquid. She was talking animatedly with Ewan, and occasionally shooting glances at Hector. Interesting that Gertrude had once been Sutter’s lover.

  “Why did they break up?” Bluebell asked.

  “They always had a love-hate relationship, like I said,” Hector said. “The thing about most relationships is that as you age and the passionate love dies, a new, more solid bond forms. With them, when the passion fizzled, the hate remained. It was bound to end in disaster.”

  “Yet they were in the same coven,” Bluebell said.

  “Well, it was too late to do anything about that, they were already bound together,” Hector said. “But they were mature enough to handle it well. I’ll give them that. None of us ever had any complaints. Not like Oliver and Mathilda. Boy, there’s a couple that underlines that old saying, Husband and Wife cause the Coven to Strife.”

  “Oliver and Mathilda, are they divorced?” Bluebell asked.

  “Almost,” Hector said. “It’s a bit of a toss up. Now I think there’s still sparks between them, but boy, Oliver’s got a lot of cleaning up to do before they can get back together.”

  “What happened between them?” Bluebell asked.

  “Quite the gossip, aren’t you?” Hector smiled. “Still, you’re taking my mind off things. I’ll tell you what it is—”

  “Hector Blossom?” Officer Chadwick entered, “Could you come with me and Officer Pierce please? We have some questions we’d like you to answer. The rest of you, please bear with us.”

  Hector drained his whisky, and put the glass delicately on a side table. “Coming,” he said, and with a last nod at Bluebell, he left the room.

  *****

  Chapter 8

  Ewan’s Magic

  Oliver entered after Hector had left, and dropped down on the couch next to Bluebell. He ran a hand through his hair and slouched till his head was on the edge of the sofa, pointing straight up. “What a horrible day.” He sighed. “They suspect everyone. Even me!”

  “You should be all right, though,” Bluebell said. “We all have an alibi, don’t we?”

  “Do we?” Oliver smiled.

  “Of course, we do,” Bluebell said. “Angelina and I were together. Gertrude joined us later, saying that she had heard voices from the library. Almost immediately after, Mathilda joined us saying she’d heard voices an hour ago too. Then you and Ewan entered together. Everyone has an alibi, except Hector.”

  And perhaps Mathilda, Bluebell realized.

  She’d joined them soon after Gertrude, but how much time would the murder really have taken? It was a simple slicing spell, wasn’t it? If it were Mathilda, then it gave her maybe two minutes to murder Sutter and then run to join Gertrude. But… perhaps it was a spur-of-the-moment crime. Perhaps Sutter was standing under the chandelier, the door had been open, and Mathilda had just… done it. Only…what could her motive possibly be? Besides, who was the man who had been with Sutter? Gertrude had said it was clearly a man’s voice.

  “Knock knock,” Oliver said. “Deep in thought, aren’t you?”

  “Do you think Hector did it?” Bluebell asked.

  “Seems that way,” Oliver said. “It all adds up. The footprints were large enough to belong to him. He was very nervous earlier today when Sutter declared that he knew. Plus, Hector had no alibi and he had gone to see Sutter after our 3pm meeting.” Oliver ticked the reasons off on his fingers. Then he frowned. “So why don’t I believe it?”

  “What do you believe?” Bluebell asked.

  “I’ve known all these people a long time,” Oliver said. “I can’t believe any of them would do this. So maybe it’s just wishful thinking on my part. You ever hear about doctors who can’t believe it when they fall sick? I guess the same thing happens to a detective, you never expect to be involved in a crime so close to home.” He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. “I wish I could just think. Who, why, when, how?”

  “Maybe I can help,” Bluebell said. “I mean… I can give you a fresh take on it all.”

  “I hope you can,” Oliver said.

  “So,” Bluebell said, “who here had a reason to kill Sutter?”

  “Uff. Easy questions first, hmm?” Oliver gave her a sardonic smile. “Well, I don’t know. Whoever was the gu
ilty party. Whoever he had information on. That much is obvious.”

  “Forget Sutter ever said that,” Bluebell said. “Who had motive to kill him?”

  Oliver scratched his chin. “Honestly? I don’t think any of us did. Well...” His face grew doubtful. “There is one person.”

  “Gertrude?” Bluebell smiled.

  “Gertrude?” Oliver looked surprised. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Hector told me she and Sutter had once been lovers.”

  “Well, yes, if by once you mean in some long forgotten era. Hector was just trying to deflect accusations by making wild allegations, I think,” Oliver said. “I mean, I don’t believe Gertrude is capable of anything like it.”

  But maybe she was, Bluebell thought.

  Gertrude had walked up to her and Angelina and had claimed to hear voices. What if she was lying? She was certainly the most powerful magician in this coven after Sutter, so maybe she was capable of using her wits to lure him to his death. It could be, perhaps Gertrude had a long simmering hatred of Sutter that had finally broken out in a vicious murderous rage. Perhaps she had secrets of her own that Sutter had threatened to reveal. Yes. It made sense. After all, Gertrude was campaigning to be Chief Minister of the Magical Ministry soon. Perhaps she thought that the risk of killing Sutter would be easier to bear than the stain on her campaign.

  She looked at Oliver and suddenly realized that if he hadn’t meant Gertrude, there was someone else he suspected.

  “You never completed your sentence,” Bluebell said. “Who do you think had a motive?”

  “Well, Ewan,” Oliver said. “But he was with me, playing tennis. There’s no way he could have done it, right?”

  Bluebell bit her lip. “Put that aside for a second. What’s his motive?”

  “Sutter took away his magic,” Oliver said. “That’s a pretty big motive, isn’t it?”

  “Took away his magic? What do you mean took away his magic?” Bluebell looked confused. “What’s he here for, if Sutter took it away?”

  “Ewan’s part of the coven, which means he has a right to be here,” Oliver said. “But he very nearly got thrown out a few years ago.”