What if the coven had decided to intervene? Blackmail wasn’t something that I could see the council undertaking, especially since Aunt Rowena had basically told Mom that she didn’t have anything to worry about on that front.
Besides, the council of the coven was a bit more forthcoming in their opinions than to hide behind a handwritten note. They were more of the fire and brimstone kind of witches and wizards, if you get my drift.
You’re giving me a headache with all of these random questions bouncing around in that head of yours, Raven. How am I to get any shuteye with your thoughts spinning a million miles a minute?
“You don’t have any answers to my questions, do you?” I asked softly behind the disposable cup that held my cinnamon-flavored coffee. “Oh, wise one?”
You can try all you want, Raven. You literally have no sense of humor. You’re about as funny as a dry well.
The door to the bakery swung open, but the man who entered wasn’t the one I had been waiting on. I couldn’t help but grin.
You’re causing a hairball to want to catch in the back of my throat.
“Hello, handsome,” I said with an even brighter smile, leaning forward until my elbows were on the table so that I could lift my face for a kiss. Liam leaned down and brushed his lips against mine before pulling out the chair beside me and opposite of Leo. “Please tell me that you found out who attacked Otis?”
“Your wish is my command.” Liam took a seat, greeted Leo, and then peered over his shoulder toward the table that my mother and her friends occupied on the other side of the room. “You’re not going to like it, though.”
Let me guess! Let me guess! Your mother made the whole thing up, and then she attacked the former sheriff for good measure. She’s a mean one, Raven. Way too mean for my VVBFF, anyway.
“What did you find out?” I asked cautiously, my smile gradually fading as I waited for confirmation that Leo might be right.
I’d never before considered that Mom might have second thoughts about marrying Beetle. Usually, my mother was overly forthright, but I had warned her that she wasn’t permitted to break Beetle’s undead heart. Was this her way around dealing with what could be a huge fallout for everyone involved?
“I don’t think that Otis was actually assaulted this morning,” Liam revealed, keep his voice low so that no one overheard us. His statement had definitely caught me off guard. “After you went over to the inn, I had Otis walk me through the area that he was in where you found him. Those heaters that he was making sure were turned on have metal shields on top in order to deflect the heat downward. I think one of them had an unsecured metal piece that fell and hit Otis in the head. When you tripped and fell into the snowman, all of that snow covered up the wayward heat deflector that was to blame. It seems that there are some that are rusting through.”
I’m sure it’s the lack of blueberry-filled edibles, but is the good ol’ sheriff saying that we don’t have another whodunit to solve? Because if that’s the case, I’m heading back to the cottage and taking a mental health day. I wasn’t the one who volunteered for the pre-wedding errands, as you well know, and you completely ruined the atmosphere at the teashop. It’s a wonder that Tweedledee and Tweedledum haven’t managed to burn the place down by now.
I couldn’t help but glance out the window of the bakery and try to make certain that Leo’s statement hadn’t been some sort of premonition. Elsie and Wilma had been known to get into some scrapes, but all appeared to be well.
That you know of, Raven. Can we get back to the fact that no one attacked the former sheriff, please? It’s beginning to sound like karma might have played a big part in this mystery.
“What about Otis hearing someone say that he shouldn’t go through with something?” I asked, wondering if maybe the situation wasn’t as bad as it had first seemed. “I never did see the hand-written notes that Mom said threatened Beetle’s life.”
“I actually have them with me.” Liam pulled a couple of clear plastic bags out from his coat pocket and laid them on the table. “The individual who wrote them didn’t technically threaten Beetle’s life. The intent indicates that she would be unhappy if she married Beetle—that both of them would be really unhappy together.”
Well, that technically isn’t a lie when you think about it, Raven. I know it’s going to make me unhappy, and I don’t even live under the same roof as the Mistress of the Dark.
I pulled the clear plastic bags closer to me after giving Leo a glance of warning. My mother might be at another table, but that didn’t mean she still couldn’t hear his sarcastic commentary. With that said, maybe it would be a good thing for Leo to grab her attention. Clearly, she’d misunderstood the messages that had been left for her.
“It’s more than obvious that someone doesn’t want the wedding to happen,” Liam continued, leaning his forearms on the table as we both stared down at the notes. “But there really isn’t a crime against leaving someone a message to warn them off making a decision either way. There were no threats made, Otis’ incident this morning was nothing more than an unfortunate accident, and the woman you wanted me to run a background on has a clean criminal record.”
Liam casually began to survey the numerous tables until his gaze landed on my mother’s table.
“So that’s the chef and his assistant,” Liam said softly, witnessing Cecelia laugh at something else that my mother had said in their conversation. “They seem pretty chummy.”
“Yeah, well, I gave the chef his check and then we somehow all ended up here.” I reread the notes, hoping for something that would stick out to me. “I’m meeting the manager of the band here, and then I need to stop by the boutique to pick up Mom’s pearl comb for her hair. There are a few more odds and ends that I need to take care of, but I still think that we should all meet at the cottage to discuss who could be behind the notes. Maybe Beetle has a secret admirer who regrets not pursuing him earlier on.”
I could go now and get a head start. You know, just to make sure the place is all tidy and ready for guests.
“You’re not getting out of running these errands with me that easy,” I muttered, not worried that Liam would think that I was talking to him. “Plus, we have a spell to cast.”
A what?
“You haven’t figured out that is why Liam brought these notes to us in plastic baggies?”
I assumed that the good ol’ sheriff was simply collecting evidence properly, trying to avoid cross contamination, such as DNA and fingerprints. Correct me if I’m wrong, but he is the local law enforcement around here. At the rate we’ve been solving his crimes, I do believe that we should be on the payroll as consultants.
“This could be way over my head, but is there some sort of reason that your mother didn’t cast a detection spell or whatever on these herself?” Liam asked with a frown, and rightly so.
“She did,” I revealed with a frown. “Mom said that she couldn’t see anything beyond from when the paper had been purchased from an office supply store.”
In her defense, she’d had a hectic week with all the wedding preparations. Maybe she’d gotten something mixed up in the components of the incantation.
We are talking about your mother, right? Mistress of the Dark? The one who raised you in the city and intended to keep your lineage a secret until the day you died? Trust me, she didn’t get anything mixed up.
When Leo put it like that…
I have my good qualities, though they are definitely better when I receive mental antioxidants from my well-deserved, blueberry-filled edibles. It’s not like I’m withering away or anything. It’s more like withdrawals.
Leo definitely wasn’t withering away or experiencing withdraw symptoms. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure that he’d gained another pound or two from consuming too many blueberry-filled treats. A few days off from such a habit-forming culinary temptation probably wasn’t a bad idea.
“Miss Marigold?”
Liam and I glanced up to find a gentlem
an in his sixties standing between our table and the front entrance. I’d been so caught up with trying to figure out how Mom could have flubbed up the spell that I hadn’t even noticed the change in temperature as the door had swung open.
I’d recognize this gentleman anywhere.
Rick “Billy” Gastonville was an old acquaintance of my mother from New York City, and I had successfully gotten him to agree to play at the reception with his band. It was my wedding gift to the couple, but the lead singer wasn’t supposed to be in town until tomorrow. I’d thought that the manager and I had been on the same page.
Apparently, Mr. Gastonville had been given a different itinerary.
Is the growing warm spot in my chest actually hope or just a hairball?
I had no idea what Leo was talking about, so I ignored him to concentrate on the upcoming introductions. I’d seen Mr. Gastonville’s picture on the band’s website, but I’d never met him in person.
“I’m sure you’ve heard this your entire life, but you are the spitting image of your mother,” Billy declared loudly, the long strands of his salt and pepper hair hanging down as he leaned forward to shake my hand. “This is like déjà vu, man! Extraordinary!”
It is like déjà vu! Raven, just look at this man. He is the embodiment of rugged looks gone to seed, from the dreadful strands of hair down to the matching five o-clock shadow. His skin is weathered a bit past the point of healthy, he looks as if he hasn’t showered in days, and is that…why, say it isn’t so! The man actually has a tattoo on his neck that looks as if a third grader used him as an art project. Even better, it’s probably a prison tat! Don’t you get it? He’s me in human form!
I quickly made introductions before gesturing that Billy should join us. He was the lead singer of a rockabilly band, which was how he’d gotten his nickname that my mother had come to love over the years. The band wasn’t famous, by any means. Instead, they had a cult following and made a living playing the smaller venues up and down the East coast.
And his fans love him, Raven. They actually like that he looks as if he’s been living in a junkyard trailer for years. He’s a rockabilly icon, and I shall treat him as such.
“Mr. Gastonville, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” I greeted, wondering why Billy wasn’t taking the seat at the table. “I didn’t realize that you were going to be getting into town so early. Your manager said that—”
“I fired her last week,” Billy announced with a grimace, resting his hands on the back of the chair. “She had a problem with me doing your mother a favor, and I don’t take kindly to being told what to do or what gigs I can take. Your mother and I go way back, and I would drop everything if that woman so much as uttered the words.”
Go figure, Raven! Rockabilly boy and I have more in common than just looks! Wait, did it sound as if he…
“I didn’t realize that you and my mother were that close.” I shared a confusing look with Liam, who had leaned back in his chair and was simply taking in the conversation. He’d once told me that listening was half of his job, and the other vast majority was paperwork. “As I told your manager, Rebecca Dunsbury, I reached out to you as a gift to my mother and her soon-to-be husband. She doesn’t even know that you’re going to be playing at the reception. I have your check right here for—”
“Check?” Billy grimaced and vigorously shook his head in denial. “I specifically told Rebecca that she was not to charge you a single penny for the session tomorrow. I couldn’t figure out why she had you down for a meeting in the digital calendar, and I didn’t have your phone number. I know that this was supposed to be a surprise, but—”
What is happening? Raven, do something. Your mother is standing there looking like one of those groupies from the Grateful Dead. She’s going to scare my doppelgänger away before we can compare notes.
“Billy?” My mother’s voice wasn’t as sharp as it usually was. Somehow, it had become a softer version of what we were all used to, and I realized that maybe she and Billy had been a lot closer than she’d previously let on. “Oh, my! Is that really you?”
I’m losing count of all the men who she seems to have—
“Dumplings,” Billy exclaimed with a flashy smile as he swept my mother up into his arms. She literally giggled like a schoolgirl, much to Leo’s dismay. “You’re looking as beautiful as ever. Are you sure I can’t talk you out of this wedding, help you pack your bags, and whisk you off for a morally ambiguous weekend in Paris? I’m talking Paris, South Carolina, of course. Only the best for you.”
Hairball incoming!
“How in the world did you—” My mother broke off the rest of her sentence, her attention focusing on me. There were happy tears brimming on her lashes. “Oh, Raven! You remembered that I loved Billy and his music.”
I gave her a sheepish smile and a shrug, wishing that there wasn’t a grey cloud hanging over the upcoming nuptials. Something that Billy had said previously had me wondering if the answer wasn’t right in front of us.
“Billy, what did you mean earlier that Rebecca Dunsbury didn’t want you playing at Mom’s wedding tomorrow?” I asked, confused as to why the woman would have any feelings on the subject. “Was it something that I might have said or done that would—”
“Rebecca? You hired Rebecca Dunsbury as your manager?” my mother asked in horror, stepping back from Billy so that she could backhand his arm in rebuke. “What is wrong with you, Billy? You don’t remember how she tried to have the bouncer throw me out of—”
“Dumplings,” Billy murmured in a soothing tone as he took ahold of her shoulders. “I had to think of what was best for the band, and that woman had connections at the time. Don’t worry, though. She’s gone. I fired her last week, and she’s out of my hair. Now, about running away with me…”
For the love of all sacred catnip treats, take her! Pack up the woman’s bags, shove her onto a sled pulled by a rabid reindeer, and ride off into a blizzard. Raven, I’m calling it a day. I can’t take any more dumplings, attempted murders that might simply be accidents, or blackmail that’s apparently not even threatening. I’m going on strike!
Chapter Seven
“Let me get this straight,” Heidi asked cautiously, her blond curls bouncing as she made her way over to the two pizza boxes that I’d brought home earlier after finishing my errands. She was still dressed in one of her favorite pantsuits that was complimented with a matching silver and pink scarf. “Your mother has received blackmail notes, but not necessarily threatening ones, depending on your perspective. Otis initially thought he was attacked in town square, but it turned out that it was simply an accident. Both the caterer and the lead singer of the band you hired for your mother’s wedding are or at least were in love with her, while the fired band manager loathes her to the point that it wouldn’t be out of the question that she was the one leaving the notes. Oh, and you actually left Wilma and Elsie in charge of the shop for an entire day? Do I have all that right? Jeez, Raven. I can’t leave you alone for one second, can I?”
Tell my soulmate that I went on strike. As a matter of fact, make sure that she knows I’m going home with her tonight. I need another mental health day.
I didn’t bother to answer either of them as I settled onto the fluffy burgundy pillow that I always made sure was on the floor in between the coffee table and the hearth. The heat of the blazing fire behind me warming my back was most welcome after walking in the cold most of the day.
Oh, yeah. I was supposed to remind you that we needed to pick up the car at the garage. Raven, we need to go and pick up the car before the garage closes.
I groaned when I realized that I’d completely forgotten to pick my vehicle up from the local garage. Newt had even left a message on my phone to remind me that he closed at six o’clock tonight. He did mention that he’d be open tomorrow morning, but he had also been invited to the reception. Most likely, he would close up shop a little early with the rest of the town.
With everything that had happened t
oday, I then had to make sure that Wilma and Elsie had left the teashop intact and locked up properly. Surprisingly, they’d had record number of sales and had even offered to watch the shop if I ever had another emergency where I needed someone to mind the cash register. I still made a mental note to check over everything come Sunday when I opened the shop for half a day.
“Where’s Ted?” Heidi asked around a piece of pepperoni that she had picked off the slice that she had put on a plate and carried with her to the couch. She sat across from me and began to look over the pestles and mortars that I’d set out in order to conduct an incantation on the notes that Liam had taken into evidence. “You’re going to do the spell that will show you the last remnants of energy attached to the paper, right? Hold on! Don’t tell me. Let me guess. I see that you already have the mirror, and you most likely have milk and fresh local honey already in the mortars. So, that means you’re having Ted bring you some rosemary to help garner more energy and beth root to turn the spell around, since you’re looking for the individual who wrote on the paper…and not the paper itself.”
My soulmate’s learning curve is astonishing, Raven. She was born to be a hedge witch.
“Very good,” I praised, wondering if there was a chance for me to finish up the spell and make it to the garage to pick up my car before the garage closed for the evening. Odds were currently in my favor if Ted managed to arrive in the next few minutes. “I’m impressed, Heidi. I didn’t think you learned about beth root yet, because it’s normally to reverse the effects of a hex.”
Heidi stopped mid-chew, as if she realized that she’d forgotten to tell me something. With the upcoming wedding tomorrow, we’d had to skip a few sessions.
Uh-oh. I think that there was something else that I was supposed to tell you, but my short-term memory kicked in. Wait! Don’t tell me!
I arched a brow, letting Heidi know that I was waiting to hear how she’d learned about beth root. Mom had given her several books to read up on herbs, but they had been more to get Heidi familiar with the various spell components available. Knowing the properties of plants, flowers, and herbs were most important when practicing witchcraft.
Frosty Blend (A Paramour Bay Cozy Paranormal Mystery Book 15) Page 6
