Some Like It Witchy: A Wishcraft Mystery

by Heather Blake

  “But,” I said, after voicing my concerns, “what does Andreus have to do with Raina? I don’t know of a connection, do either of you?”

  Cherise said, “Raina and I had spoken of the Roving Stones upcoming return, but she mentioned nothing specifically about Andreus. But the matter of the charm in her hand and the letter A on the wall convinces me there is some sort of association.”

  Ve wrinkled her nose. “Not necessarily.”

  A plane soared overhead, and I also heard the soft coo of a mourning dove perched on the porch roof. The bird spent a lot of time around As You Wish, and over the past months, its coo had become familiar and soothing.

  “This is no time to be contrary, Velma,” Cherise said.

  Ve rolled her eyes. “I’m rarely contrary. I’m not denying that Andreus might have some involvement. I simply meant Andreus’s association may not be with Raina personally, but with the house itself.”

  Tourists had gathered across the street, lining the village green to get a glimpse at the commotion. One of my closest friends, Starla Sullivan, was in the midst of the fray, snapping pictures of the goings-on. Although her main source of income was as the owner of Hocus-Pocus Photography, she freelanced at the Toil and Trouble, the village newspaper.

  I perked up, remembering that Raina Gallagher had been Starla’s agent when she bought her new house just a month ago. A small cottage not far from the village square. Her old place, a beautiful brownstone, had been put up for sale after I’d found a dead body on her sofa.

  It was as good a reason to move as any. Especially when the dead man had been her ex-husband.

  I sighed, not wanting to remember the case. It had been an emotional roller coaster.

  I wondered if Starla or Evan (her twin brother who’d helped with the house-hunt) had picked up any strange vibes from Raina—or gleaned any info that would be helpful right about now. I added them to my list of people to talk to.

  “I don’t understand,” I finally said to my aunt. “Do you think Andreus was one of the bidders on the Tavistock house? Was Raina his real estate agent? If so, why would he kill her? What’s his motive?”

  Ve patted my arm. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, my girl. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if Andreus was a bidder on the home. His family has strong ties to that house.”

  “They do?” I asked. “How?”

  On the fringe of the crowd, I spotted real estate agent Noelle Quinlan. In her early thirties, she was tall and slender and easily stood a head above most of the other gawkers. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and her expression, which was usually perpetually exuberant, remained cheery as she watched the goings-on. Like Kent, she didn’t seem upset over the murder, either. And it suddenly struck me why. Her company, Oracle Realty, was the top rival of Raina and Kent’s, and I realized Raina’s death could only help Noelle’s business. . . . Everyone knew Raina was the go-getter at Magickal Realty and now that she was gone, I suspected the business would fall apart. Allowing Noelle to swoop in and pick up the pieces.

  Cherise suddenly gasped and grabbed Ve’s arm. “How could I have forgotten? Sebastian.”

  “Yes,” Ve said, nodding. “Sebastian.”

  “Who is Sebastian?” I was completely confused as I turned my full attention to the pair of them.

  Color rose high on Cherise’s cheeks as she waved her hand about. “Oh, oh, oh. And the diamonds.”

  Tipping her head, Ve nodded and repeated in acknowledgment, “The diamonds.”

  “Okay, you two,” I said, wagging a finger. “Stop repeating each other and tell me what you’re talking about.”

  A breeze swept down the street, further loosening Aunt Ve’s hairdo and apparently her tongue as well.

  “Once upon a time,” Ve began, “there was a man who was engaged to a woman. She was a bit of a spoiled princess, and he was a bit of a criminal. . . .”

  “Oh dear God.” Cherise shook her head. “Perhaps we should sit down for this if it’s going to be a long-winded narrative.”

  Ve frowned at her. “Would you like to tell the story, Cherise?”

  “Yes, please. I’ll die an old woman before your telling is done.” She faced me. “Sebastian Woodshall is Andreus’s father. Ages ago, he and Eleta were engaged until he stole a bunch of diamonds. After being anonymously tipped off, the FBI closed in. Sebastian died in a subsequent shoot-out. Eleta became a hermit. The diamonds were never found, but are believed—despite numerous searches by the FBI—to be inside the Tavistock home. The end.”

  In shock, I blinked as I tried to process what she said.

  Diamonds and shoot-outs. It seemed like something out of a movie. Wait . . . “Was Eleta Andreus’s mother?”

  “Oh no,” Cherise said. “That’s a whole other story. Sebastian was a bit of a playboy, and Zara Woodshall—Andreus’s mother—finally had enough of him when she learned that he was cheating with Eleta. Served him with divorce papers . . . When was that, Ve? A year before the heist?”

  “Thereabouts,” Ve said, nodding.

  “How long ago did all of this happen?” I asked.

  “Late seventies.” Ve sighed wistfully. “I was such a young thing then. Only recently divorced from Terry, in fact.”

  “And I’d just started dating him,” Cherise piped in.

  I wondered if Terry could feel the mental game of tug-of-war they played with him. Each had an arm and were pulling for all their worth.

  I did some mental math. Andreus, now almost fifty, had been a teenager when his father died. Thirteen. Maybe fourteen. How traumatizing. I turned to face Cherise. “I can’t believe you didn’t mention the diamonds before now, especially since we’ve spent a good amount of time in the Tavistock house. I wouldn’t think missing diamonds are something easily forgotten.”

  “Not exactly forgotten,” Cherise said, her brows drawn low, “but purposely pushed into a dusty corner of my mind. It was a dark time for the village, Darcy. One best left in the past.”

  Ve nodded. “A very dark time. It was agreed upon a long time ago to put the matter behind us. Move on. Essentially pretend it never happened.”

  Pretend. Even though lives had been destroyed and pricey precious jewels were still missing.

  “Which is easier said than done,” Ve added. “Especially when mortal treasure hunters keep popping up in the village every now and again.”

  “Treasure hunters?” I asked.

  “Oh sure. It was widely publicized by the media that the diamonds are suspected to be in the Tavistock house,” Ve said, “and despite the fact that the FBI searched the place top to bottom and found nothing, that belief has never changed. The treasure hunters show up a couple of times a year, usually when the media revisits the cold case. Many an attempt has been made to ask Eleta’s permission to look for the diamonds on the property. . . .”

  “Some even went so far as to try to break in,” Cherise said, shaking her head.

  “All attempts failed miserably,” Ve added with a smile. “Thanks to Eleta’s stubbornness and a little magic.”

  “The rumor that Eleta cast a spell to keep people out of her house is true then?” I asked.

  Ve nodded. “It’s true.”

  Cherise said, “Once Sebastian died, Eleta closed herself off from society. She wanted to be left alone with her grief. She adored that man.”

  “True, true,” Ve agreed, “but there was another spell that was cast by her as well. One that hid the diamonds.” She cocked her head. “The FBI didn’t know what they were up against during their searches.”

  I’d learned a lot about spells in the year I’d lived here, and one thing I knew was most spells died with the person who cast them. In other words, after Eleta passed away, her house was no longer protected against unwanted visitors, and if the diamonds were also under a spell, they could now be found.
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  “How many diamonds were stolen?” I asked. “What was their value?”

  Ve and Cherise looked at each other a long time before Ve said, “It was Boston’s biggest diamond heist.”

  “Wait.” Stunned, I glanced between the two of them. “You’re not talking about the Circe Heist, are you?”

  Both had gone pale, as though simply talking about the robbery gave them the willies.

  “Yes, it was the Circe Heist,” Cherise confirmed hesitantly in a hushed yet reverent tone.

  My shock came out in the high-pitched tone of my voice. “Andreus Woodshall’s father stole the Circe diamonds?”

  No wonder the media periodically revisited the case! It wasn’t only Boston’s biggest diamond heist, but the country’s as well.

  Anxiously, Ve looked around and shushed me. “Keep quiet, Darcy.”

  Cherise added, “Supposedly, Sebastian had an accomplice, but no one ever figured out who . . .”

  Ve shot her a quelling look, and she snapped her mouth closed.

  In a strained whisper, I said, “That was tens of millions of dollars in diamonds.” Tens. Of. Millions. “And they’re hidden in the Tavistock house? That’s a big motive for murder.”

  I suddenly recalled the paneling that had been pried loose in the closet near Raina’s body. Had she walked in on someone looking for the diamonds and was killed because of it?

  “Around here the monetary value of the diamonds is irrelevant, Darcy dear,” Ve said, still looking around as though afraid of being heard. “The diamonds were—are—priceless.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, confused again. “If they were priceless, how is the monetary value not a factor?”

  “What do you know of Circe?” Cherise asked quietly.

  Trying to drum up what I could remember of the mythology course I took in high school, I shrugged. “Not much. Mythical Greek goddess. Liked to turn men into pigs.”

  “How did she turn men into pigs?” Ve asked, much like a teacher testing me.

  With a start, I realized the answer she was looking for. “She was a sorceress.”

  Aunt Ve quirked an eyebrow.

  My jaw dropped, and I whispered, “She was a Crafter?”

  “One of the first,” Cherise confirmed.

  “But she didn’t exist,” I said. “Mythology isn’t real . . .”

  Aunt Ve tsked. “Has this village taught you nothing, my dear?”

  My head spun with new information.

  “It is a shame,” Cherise chimed in, “that people thousands of years ago were more enlightened than today’s society.”

  “Does everyone in the village know about the diamonds?” I was amazed I’d never heard about them before now.

  “Most, mortals included, who have lived here a long time surely do,” Cherise said.

  It was almost too much for my mind to contemplate.

  A mythical goddess who had been very much real.

  Circe had been a witch. And her magical diamonds were reportedly hidden in the Tavistock house.

  Ve’s gaze softened, and she patted my arm. “It’s a lot to take in, Darcy. The primary source of Circe’s power was her magical staff,” she explained. “The first magic wand, so to speak. It was nothing more than a stick, but the center of it had been hollowed out and filled with tears collected from other gods. Tears that turned into diamonds once they fell from the eyes of the gods. Magical diamonds that provide their owner unlimited power. Power that rivals the Elder’s. Sebastian Woodshall wanted that power. According to Eleta, Sebastian believed that Circe was the first Charmcrafter and that the diamonds belonged with a Charmcrafter descendent.”

  “Well, that,” Cherise said with a roll of her eyes, “and he rather fancied himself a god.”

  “He did have a bit of an ego,” Ve agreed.

  “Do we know for certain that the diamonds are in the house?” I asked.

  “There wasn’t much time for Sebastian to hide the diamonds somewhere else before being turned in by the tipster. He’d gone straight from the heist to Eleta’s,” Cherise said.

  “He could have stopped on the way . . . Left the diamonds with the accomplice. . . .” I speculated.

  “When some Crafters started freaking out that the diamonds might have fallen into the wrong hands, or be found by someone who didn’t know their worth, the Elder reluctantly confirmed they’re on the Tavistock property,” Ve said. “But I know that even she does not know where they are exactly.”

  “Why hasn’t anyone wished to find the diamonds before now?” In a village of Crafters, it seemed the logical thing to do. After all, the Elder’s rule about other Crafters not abusing the power of Wishcrafters hadn’t gone into effect until last year. Now all wishes made by other Crafters went through the Elder first, in some sort of magical filtering system. Wishes could either be granted immediately or the Crafter had to meet with the Elder to plead the case for the wish made. We Wishcrafters never knew which it would be when we cast the spell.

  A wish made by a mortal, however, was granted immediately unless it fell into an unauthorized category under Wishcraft Law. For example, we can’t grant wishes that ask for someone to fall in love with the wishee. Or bring people back from the dead. Or grant wishes for money—without that money having to come from somewhere else. There were also restrictions on the way wishes had to be phrased.

  It was complicated, and I was still learning the ins and outs.

  “After the heist, the Elder stated straight off that the diamonds were not to be found using Craft magic of any form,” Cherise said.

  Ve nodded. “Doing so had the ability to tear the Craft apart.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “Competition,” Ve said. “Greed. Power-hungriness. If one Crafter found those diamonds, it was bound that another would want them and might go to an extreme length to take them. The Elder felt it best to leave the diamonds’ whereabouts a mystery, though,” she added, “I do not think anyone suspected they’d still be hidden all this time later.”

  “I venture to guess that Andreus is keen to pick up where his father left off,” Cherise said. “Which explains his interest in the Tavistock house.”

  It wouldn’t be the first time Andreus sought out unlimited powers. When I first met him, he’d been seeking a charm that granted unlimited wishes. I wondered now if he’d wanted that charm so he could find the diamonds. . . .

  Charms were held in a different category from Craft magic, and I doubted the Elder would have been able to intervene had Andreus gotten his hands on the wish charm. Fortunately, I’d thwarted his plan, so I didn’t have to worry about that.

  I just had to worry if he’d killed Raina.

  Chapter Four

  Half an hour after Ve and Cherise dropped the bombshell about the Circe diamonds, one thing had become crystal clear.

  I was going to have to track down Andreus Woodshall sooner rather than later.

  The thought alone had given me the heebies and sent me into the house to tidy As You Wish’s office. Cleaning had always been the best way to clear my mind.

  I wasn’t usually one to procrastinate, but I needed time to figure out how I was going to approach Andreus. And how I was going to get him to be truthful—something he rarely was. As I filed invoices, I wondered if there was a spell for that. Honesty. A magical truth serum.

  I didn’t know of one off the top of my head, but it didn’t mean a spell didn’t exist. There was still a lot for me to learn about my craft. Fortunately, I had help in the form of Melina Sawyer’s diary, in which she had recorded hundreds of spells. Mimi’s mom had left the book behind after she died, and Mimi and I had been learning so much from it.

  Missy lay on the floor in the doorway, watching me zip back and forth across the office, from desk to filing cabinet. Aunt Ve’s Himalayan, Tilda, sat atop a bookcase
staring down at me, judgment shining in her clear blue eyes.

  Ve had gone off to collect a batch of campaign buttons she’d ordered from the local print shop, and Cherise had set out to uncover the status of the Tavistock house’s sale.

  I wasn’t sure who she planned to ask. Kent was occupied with the police, and Calliope’s fiancé, Finn Reardon, had taken her home to rest. I glanced at her binder and phone, which sat on the edge of the desk. In the aftermath of finding Raina’s body, I’d never returned them after she handed them to me this morning. I planned to get them back to her later but had to confess I’d already snooped through the papers for any info regarding the Tavistock house. There was nothing there but blank real estate forms.

  That had been disappointing.

  I’d been hoping for a list of potential buyers . . . and their bids.

  I told myself it was to help Cherise, but truly I’d just been curious. I’d stopped short at trying to access Calliope’s phone, but don’t think for a second the thought hadn’t gone through my head.

  I’d also done a quick search on the Circe Heist online. In October 1979, the diamonds, which had been part of a traveling gemstone exhibit, were being delivered to the Museum of Fine Arts for a Halloween display when a Back Bay Armory guard was approached by a uniformed police officer who said he was there to accompany the guard inside. Bing, bang, boom, the guard had been knocked out and the diamonds stolen, never to be seen again.

  The “police officer” had been Sebastian Woodshall.

  He’d been forty-one years old, newly engaged to Eleta, and dead within hours of the heist.

  I needed more time to sort through it all, but a couple of tidbits jumped out right away. The tipster who’d turned in Sebastian mentioned the accomplice was named Phillip, someone who had never been fully identified or located. The tipster had never been identified either, other than one detail: it had been a female.

  Who was she? How did she know about the heist? And why had she turned in Sebastian? The reward money—which now topped two million dollars and explained the bevy of treasure hunters interested in finding the diamonds—had never been claimed, so it hadn’t been a financial decision. . . . Online sources were of no help whatsoever with those questions, so I was going to have to ask the Enchanted Village’s resident historian for more information. I added a trip to see my mouse friend Pepe to my to-do list.