by Amy Boyles
I trudged upstairs to her room. Now, I’d never actually been invited into Betty’s room before and I was a little nervous that the whole place was booby trapped. There wasn’t any evidence to think this way, just a sixth sense about Betty.
Call it intuition.
Mattie sat perched outside Betty’s room. “I heard about what the heck happened, sugar. What a cotton pickin’ mess.”
“Yeah. It is. But I’m hoping they’ll figure it out quickly.”
Mattie rubbed her side against my leg. “I’m guessin’ from the fact that you’re headin’ for Betty’s room that she told you about The List.”
My eyebrows lifted. “You know about it?”
Mattie meowed softly. “Know about? I’m the one who helped her write it.”
“Impressive.” I started to push on the door and stopped. “I’m not going to blow up if I walk through there, am I?”
“Shoot no,” Mattie said. “Come on. I’ll show you where it is.”
“I hope it’s not too long,” I grumbled.
I followed Mattie as she padded into the room. For all of Betty’s shotgun-toting ways, her room was surprisingly sweet and simple, feeling more like a room at a B&B than a kitchen witch’s chamber.
Lace doilies sprinkled the surfaces and a beautiful blue quilt covered her four-poster bed. The furniture was cherry with a rocker tucked into the corner.
Mattie jumped silently onto the chest of drawers. “List is in the top one. Should be laminated.”
Laminated?
I eased open the drawer and peered inside. Rows of neatly folded clean white underwear sat on one side while columns of white socks sat on the other.
“It’s under the underwear,” Mattie said.
“Great.”
Mattie half purred half laughed. “Betty figured no one wanted to dig through her underwear to find that list.”
“She’d be right.”
“But it’s highly important. This town don’t run right if all those boxes ain’t checked. With her out of commission, it’s up to you to lead this town so it don’t fall apart.”
“No pressure.” I took a deep breath and plunged my hand under the mountain of old lady Hanes. My fingers slid across the bottom until they felt the edge of the laminated sheet. I pulled it out and started reading.
“Every morning, you’ve got to find Peter Potion, put clothes on him and get him home.” I jerked back. “I’m sorry. What?”
Mattie sighed. “Peter Potion is the mayor. He’s been mayor for a good ten years. He’s also the town drunk, but no one knows it.”
I poked the sheet. “Clearly someone does.”
Mattie blinked her green eyes at me. “You’re right, Betty knows, but she’s tried hard to keep his reputation. He don’t drink on the job, only at night at home. But he gets so drunk he sleepwalks through the town. Naked.”
My eyes flared. “Naked?”
Mattie rubbed a paw over her whiskers. “You got that right. And every morning he winds up in a public place. So every day Betty tracks him down, puts clothes on him and gets him to bed.”
I shook my head, not believing what I was hearing. “Why? Why not let him get found and humiliated enough so he stops drinking?”
Mattie curled her tail around her legs. “She don’t want to hurt his feelings.”
I stared at her. “Betty Craple, the woman who supposedly put this whole town to sleep so she could streak naked through it, gets up every morning at the butt crack of dawn, tracks down Peter Potion and tucks him into bed?”
“You got it. She sets out about four am.”
I cringed. “Okay. Well, what about the other things on this list?”
Mattie jumped into the drawer, landing on the socks. “The Conjuring Caverns only have to be cleaned out once a week, and Betty did it this morning, so you’re safe until next Saturday, and the last thing will need to be done in two nights, but Betty should be back by then.”
My gaze skimmed until I read the very last line. “There’s nothing on the last line, but it happens in two nights?”
Mattie nodded. “That’s on a need to know basis.”
An inkling of an idea tickled my brain. I wasn’t sure if I was right, but when I’d first arrived into town, on the last full moon, I’d gone on a moonlit cast iron skillet ride with half of the town. I’d ended up plummeting into the Cobweb Forest and found myself face to face with a chained werewolf.
Betty had been standing guard over him, a shotgun in her hands. I never found out the details about who the werewolf was, because Betty didn’t mention it again. I felt like it was some big, dark secret that Magnolia Cove gripped with steel talons.
“Don’t worry, sugar,” Mattie said. “You won’t have to do the last line.”
“Is it the werewolf?” I said.
“Need to know basis,” Mattie reminded me.
I cracked the knuckles of my right hand. “And what if she’s not back?”
Mattie yawned. “Then you’ll need to know. We’ll worry if that happens. Now get to bed, you need some rest if you’re going to wake up and catch old Peter.”
I nodded. Naked mayors, secrets and cleaning the Conjuring Caverns. I sure hoped Betty came home soon, because it looked like I had my work cut out for me.
“Oh, and Pepper,” Mattie called as I was about to slink out the door.
“Yes?”
“Sometimes Peter likes to put up a fight.”
Great.
EIGHT
I sneaked out of the house at exactly four am, a to-go cup of coffee in one hand and a pack of jelly beans in the other. Sugar and caffeine were my two best friends.
Before I left, Mattie told me all of Peter’s favorite haunts—or places to crash in the buff, as I liked to think of them.
Unfortunately, Mattie had decided not to come with me, but she suggested I bring a blanket to cover the good mayor.
I brought an extra-wide wool cover that didn’t even let one glimmer of light pass through. I’d also contemplated telling Cordelia and Amelia what I was up to, but Mattie had warned me against it. According to the cat, if Betty had wanted them to know, she would’ve told them.
So here I was, stalking around Magnolia Cove before dawn looking like a Peeping Tom. Luckily, Peter’s favorite spots to crash were all within about five minutes of each other, so I should have things wrapped up pretty quickly.
The first spot, the bench in front of the courthouse, was bare, so I checked it off the list. I walked on to the second spot, which was a weird one, but I supposed I could understand it.
In the center of the town square stood a concrete statue of one of the founding witches of Magnolia Cove—an Amaryllis Snitch. Amaryllis was posed squatting with her arms out. Apparently, the mayor liked to curl up in her statue.
Weird but true.
When I found Amaryllis’s arms empty, I took a right and headed to the candy store. Apparently, Peter sometimes unlocked my cousin Carmen’s shop and holed up with stacks of chocolate and lollipops.
Sure enough, I received a spectacular view of Peter’s backside from the store’s front. The mayor had decided to snooze in the window.
Awesome.
Time to be quick. The door was unlocked. The bell tinkled when I entered. Peter shuffled a bit, turning away from me.
His large beer belly spread nearly to his chin. I held the blanket in front of me and draped it over his hairy body.
Peter grumbled as he pivoted. “Sorry, Betty. Had to have a caramel frog cluster.”
“No problem, Pete,” I said, going along with it.
He blinked several times until he focused a hazy gaze on me. “You’re not Betty.”
I tucked the blanket around him and said, “I’m her granddaughter, Pepper. Betty’s busy this morning.”
A stale breath wheezed from his mouth. I stopped inhaling to spare myself the breath of death. “We’re expecting her home tomorrow,” I said. “Now, let’s get you up before the town wakes and sees you.”
/> I helped Peter sit and finished draping the blanket around both his sides as he heaved and rose.
I escorted him from the shop. “How’d you get in?”
Peter pointed to a ceramic spider just outside the door. “Key’s in there.”
I found the key under one of the spindly legs and locked the door. “Come on, show me where you live.”
Light was beginning to bloom over the horizon when we reached the mayor’s yellow cottage. Lace curtains hung in the windows. It was completely different from what I expected.
“Pretty cottage,” I said.
“My wife picked it out.”
“Your wife?” I said. Shouldn’t she be the one saving you every morning?
“She passed away not long ago.”
“Oh,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
We walked in and the mayor disappeared into a back room. “Pepper,” he called out, sounding much more alert than he had when I’d first woken him, “I can’t tell you how ashamed I am of my behavior.”
“It’s all right,” I said.
“It’s not, though. I’ve been mayor for ten years and if it weren’t for your grandmother, most of the town would know my secret. If she didn’t make it a priority to find me every morning and get me home, my reputation would be ruined.”
“I understand,” I said.
“Where is she, anyway?”
I sighed. “Melbalean Mayes was murdered at the festival last night.”
The mayor reappeared dressed in a robe. The scent of cologne wafted off him. I had to admit, it was much better smelling than stale beer breath.
He pulled a toothbrush from behind him and started on his teeth. He spoke between scrubs. “Well, that was bound to happen. She might’ve had a lot of folks fooled, but Melbalean was no saint. You could look at her son and know that’s the truth.”
I crossed my arms and leaned on one hip. “Problem is, Betty looks guilty. They had that stupid rivalry about the best creature.”
Peter spit into the sink. “Yeah. That’s been going on for years. But the rumors swirling around Melbalean was that she would take things from people.”
I took a risk and sat in his recliner. Taking a risk because I had no idea how many times Peter’s naked rear end had graced it. It didn’t look crusty or smell bad, so that was certainly a plus.
“What things did she take?” I said.
Peter grabbed a bottle of mouthwash that he kept by his kitchen sink. Listen, who am I to judge? But anyway, he took a swig, gargled for about half a minute and then spit into the basin. He flattened his gray-streaked hair with his palm.
“She’d take whatever you were willing to sell—that was the rumor, at least. I never wanted to get rid of anything. I’m a wizard so there isn’t much I can’t do. But a less powerful witch who wanted to attract a certain man, she might be drawn to what Melbalean could do for her.”
I dusted dirt off my pants. “I’m new to this whole witch business, and at the most, I can talk to animals and occasionally use my power when I’m in danger. So you’ll have to spell it out for me—what exactly would Melbalean do for someone?”
Peter opened his fridge, pulled out an apple and chomped into it. “Say you were a witch and you wanted to win a dance competition. If you went to Melbalean she would ensure that you won—but the price would be hefty.”
“What price would you pay?”
He chewed for a moment. “There was a rumor years ago this exact thing happened to a beautiful young woman—she wanted to win a dance contest, but she could sing, too. Another one of her prized possessions. Well, to win the dance, the witch gave Melbalean her voice.”
My jaw dropped. “Her voice? Like in The Little Mermaid?”
“Just like that. Now, Melbalean wasn’t stupid. She didn’t poop where she ate.”
Realization hit me like water off a semi-truck going full speed down the highway during a rainstorm. “So she didn’t practice this sort of magic around here.”
“Not on the locals, no,” Peter said. “But rumors don’t start for no reason and Rufus didn’t become Dr. Zhivago on his own.”
“I think you mean Frankenstein.”
“Hmm?” he said between bites.
“Frankenstein. Not Zhivago. Zhivago was a guy in Russia.”
Mayor Potion nodded emphatically. “Yes, I think you’re right. Anyway. What I’m saying is, Melbalean probably had worse enemies than Betty Craple.”
“Not according to her hen. The bird told me that Betty did it.”
Peter shrugged. “This new sheriff, I think he’ll be smart enough to discount the ramblings of a birdbrain.”
I grimaced. “I sure do hope so.”
Peter wiped a pudgy hand along his face. “I agree. I’m used to Betty seeing me in the buff every morning, but you were quite the surprise.” His gaze dashed around the room nervously. “You’re not, um, going to mention this to anyone, are you?”
I hid the smile that crept across my face. “Don’t worry, Mayor, your secret is safe with me.”
The trek to the house left my mind spinning. If Melbalean had been as horrible as they said, surely there would be some evidence of that in her home.
Wouldn’t there be?
I was deep in thought and wasn’t watching where I was walking when a voice called out. “You going to look up or bump right into me?”
I jerked back, clutching my chest. “Sorry.” My gaze snagged on Axel dressed in sweatpants, a t-shirt and running shoes. “Are you running?”
He laughed. “Don’t look so surprised. I have to work for this body, you know.”
“I figured it came naturally to you.”
He shook his head. “You want to come along?”
I glanced down. I was basically dressed for a jog. What the heck? “Sure.” I realized I could use his opinion. “In fact, I need your help.”
He stopped. Took a deep breath and swiped a line of sweat from his forehead. “Come on. Normally I don’t like to think when I run, but I’ll make an exception.”
“Great,” I said.
The tension from the night before had vanished between us, which I took to be a solid sign that we were on the right road with our friendship, or whatever it was.
“Mind me asking what you’re doing up and about so early,” he said.
I opened my mouth and then clamped it shut quickly. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
He kicked up a jog and I ran beside him. “I’m guessing it has something to do with Betty.”
“That’s as much as I’ll say.”
“Just don’t get arrested,” he said.
I sucked air. “About that.”
“Not a good way to start a conversation,” he said.
“Anyway. From what I understand, Melbalean might not’ve been what she seemed.”
“I’ve heard the rumors.”
I paused, trying to think of a good way to explain the situation, when he kicked up the pace. I sprinted forward. “Listen, if she was into something bad, do you think there’d be evidence in her house?”
“Probably. But that’s not my concern.”
Hmm. Obviously, I wouldn’t be able to talk him into breaking and entering this morning. “Do you think maybe someone was getting revenge on her? Planned the whole thing at the festival?”
“I think that’s the most obvious part of the whole situation.”
“Is there any way to know who rigged the lights to flicker out and the banner to explode?”
Axel shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.” He stopped, panting. “Listen, I know you want to help, but Betty’ll probably be released today.”
I frowned. “What if she’s not?”
“She didn’t have any blood on her and you were with her. My guess is the forensic evidence is slim.”
I found it funny that witches would use forensics and not magic. “They test for those kinds of things? Hair and stuff?”
Axel picked up speed again. “Yeah. They don’
t just use voodoo and pixie dust to solve crimes.”
“Oh? Can you use those things, too?”
Axel shot me a questioning glance. I widened my eyes and put on a goofy look so that he’d know I was joking.
“We also use snips and snails and puppy dogs’ tails,” he joked.
“And don’t forget sugar and spice and all things nice,” I said.
We slowed to cross a street. “What about Melbalean’s family? Does she have a husband?”
“He died years ago,” Axel said. “She lived alone.”
Score! So if I had to break into her house for any reason, I’d be able to.
“Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” I said.
Axel’s watch blipped a message. I didn’t see what it was, but after he read it, Axel’s blue eyes darkened to a turbulent sea and his jaw clenched.
“What is it?”
“You know Melbalean will be having a funeral soon—in a couple of days. That’s how witches do it.”
“Why only two days?”
Axel shrugged. “The story was that if you didn’t bury a witch quickly the body would burn up, evaporate into the air. Comes from the times when everyone thought witches were evil.”
“That’s nice,” I said sarcastically.
“I don’t make the rules, I only relay them. Anyway, that’s the way it goes. She’ll be buried tomorrow.”
“Why does it matter?” I said.
Axel stopped, inhaled a deep shot of air. Sweat sprinkled his brow and dripped down the slope of his nose. “I’m telling you this because I want you to be prepared.”
“For what?” I said.
“For Rufus.”
A cold chill swept my body at the mention of Rufus.
I swallowed a knot in my throat. “What do you mean?”
Axel’s jaw flexed when he said, “He’s coming for the funeral.”
NINE
“But I thought he couldn’t come into Magnolia Cove?” I said.
We were walking now. All my steam had vanished as soon as the name Rufus had been mentioned.
Axel placed a comforting hand on my arm. “He can’t. Not normally. But with his mother’s death, the police will lift the ban on him, if the town council agrees. As long as Rufus is supervised, he’ll be able to return to Magnolia Cove for the day.”
