by Morgana Best
“I should have refused to do the spell,” I said miserably.
Ruprecht looked off into the distance, although the distance was a nearby wall in his store. “You did not have a choice, Amelia. It was an obligation you had to fulfill. You did the best you could by refusing to do a love spell, and instead doing a happiness spell. There is a long-standing agreement between your grandmother’s family and her friend’s family. You had no choice.”
I made to say something, but Ruprecht was still talking. “Have I ever told you about the dilemma with which Antigone was faced in ancient mythology, an impossible choice between law and duty, an impossible choice between human law and divine law?”
“Yes, many a time,” I said, and silently added, And I never want to hear it again.
Ruprecht, luckily, did not appear in the least offended. “Come on down to the store kitchen and I’ll make us all a nice cup of tea.”
Thyme and I were soon sitting at the store kitchen table while Ruprecht fussed over a teapot. “We googled aconite, and looked at photos of it,” Thyme said. “I thought I had seen purple flowers when we followed Clara to the butler’s apartment, so we drove back there and I took photos.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and flipped to the correct page. “Look! Here you are. This is aconite growing outside Gilbert’s apartment.”
Ruprecht looked at the screen. “Yes, that is indeed aconite. No question about it. And what conclusions do you draw from that?”
“Well, basically,” I said, “that the butler is the killer, either alone, or with Clara. Clara had a firm alibi, and I find that suspicious in itself. She easily could’ve planned an alibi for herself, while making the butler poison Nick. And if he was working alone, given that he was the butler, he no doubt had access to the antacid.”
Ruprecht stroked his chin. “That may well be the case, but I can’t help feeling that there’s more to it.”
Chapter 13
“Here you are.” I smiled, placing the plate of cupcakes carefully onto the table in front of me. The couple seated there smiled politely at me as I stepped away and walked back to the counter. Camino was finishing up the last coffee order for the moment, and Thyme was idly standing by the counter, trying her best to stifle a yawn. I knew how she felt. Ever since we had started serving coffee, the place had been busier than ever, regardless of the happiness spell.
Camino waved her arms in exasperation. “If I had a dollar for everybody who ordered something like a white mocha with an extra shot of caffeine, five pumps of caramel, sugar-free, peppermint nonfat, extra hot, no foam but lightly whipped, I would be wealthy!” she said in a stage whisper.
“Perhaps we should charge even more than we do now for extras,” I said.
Camino pursed her lips. “Would that bring in much more profit?”
I shook my head. “No, but it might deter the people who order things like that.” I looked at the storefront, thinking it had turned out wonderfully. The wide windows at the front provided a good amount of natural light, even in the worst of weather. We had decided to set up seating in each of the small window alcoves to capitalize on that fact, and they had become the most popular seats in the house in no time at all.
Now that it was all set up, it was hard to imagine why I hadn’t done it earlier. It was a natural fit, and Camino was making an excellent barista. I didn’t at all mind serving, and it seemed to be improving business considerably. It also made the atmosphere in the shop nicer, no doubt thanks to the addition of the coffee machine. No matter where I was standing in the shop, I could smell the blissful scent of brewing coffee that permeated everything. It was occasionally mixed with the sweet fragrance of cupcakes and the satisfying aroma of freshly baked cupcakes.
The new seating area was looking great as well, or at least Thyme and I were happy with how it had turned out. There was plenty of room for couples or small groups, and room enough for the seats to be placed evenly apart at a good distance. I myself always disliked being seated at a café too close to another group of people, so I made avoiding that kind of a thing a priority. And while we probably could have squeezed another small table or two into the store, I thought that the extra space was more than worth it. Besides, most people were ordering their coffees and cakes to go anyway, so despite the rush in business, we hadn’t had any troubles. There was still plenty of seating available at all times.
At first, the sound of the coffee machine whirring had been a problem for me. Camino and Thyme didn’t seem to mind it as much, but I had found it to be distracting or at least unpleasant. For that reason, I had decided to purchase a little sound system to play the radio. The local radio station wasn’t exactly original or exciting, but it was inoffensive and generic enough that I could play it without worrying about any customers complaining. More importantly, it gave the store a nice atmosphere that didn’t consist entirely of loud whirring sounds.
I sat down at one of the tables, deciding that it would be a good place to wait in case more customers came in. It was typical to get a lull around this time of day, so I wasn’t expecting a rush for a while.
Thyme came out from behind the counter and joined me at the table. “This is exciting, isn’t it?”
“It is.” I nodded. “I’m enjoying it, to be honest. Time at work is passing a bit faster because I’m busier, which is a nice bonus.”
“You don’t like being here?” Thyme teased with a wink.
“I do, I promise, it’s just that it’s so exhausting,” I admitted.
“Because of the spell?”
“Yeah,” I leaned back in my chair with a sigh. “Well, mostly. Having to explain Camino’s onesies is a bit of a drag as well.”
Thyme laughed and lightly punched me in the arm. “Quiet, you. She might take offense.”
I laughed. “I didn’t mean anything bad. It’s just hard to explain why a giant pumpkin is making their coffee. Especially when I’m not sure I understand it myself.”
I looked over at Camino, who was wearing the gigantic pumpkin onesie, which I supposed was one of her less bizarre choices in attire. Still, while it wasn’t exactly what I’d describe as professional, it did at least draw attention to the coffee machine.
“Do you think it’s because Halloween is just around the corner?” Thyme asked.
“Of course,” I said, “but she’s been wearing it for quite a while. I guess we’ll see if she’s still using it after Halloween.”
“Hello, ladies,” Dawson said as he took a seat. I’d been so engrossed thinking about Camino’s onesie that I hadn’t even noticed him entering.
“Oh! Hello, Dawson,” I said with a start. “You scared me. Would you like a coffee or a cake?” I knew that he wanted to speak to Thyme alone. More to the point, I knew that Thyme would love to be alone with Dawson for a while. I figured that I could get Dawson his order, then drop it off and walk away to avoid having to invent an awkward excuse.
“Oh, no, that’s fine, Amelia,” Dawson said with a smile. I sat back down and smiled awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Dawson was under the influence of the spell and apparently bad at taking a hint, so I wasn’t sure how to get away. Thyme shot me a weak smile, clearly understanding what had happened.
“Any progress on the case?” Thyme asked hopefully.
“Nothing I’m allowed to talk about, I’m terribly sorry.” Dawson looked like he was about to cry as he spoke. “I do hope you’ll forgive me.”
“Uh, that’s fine,” Thyme assured him. “We have a bit of information you might be interested in, actually.”
“Oh! Do tell.”
“Well, we saw aconite growing outside of Gilbert Lowe’s apartment,” Thyme explained.
“Gilbert Lowe?” Dawson asked, raising an eyebrow. He seemed to recognize the name, but after a few moments of silence, I decided to continue.
“Clara’s butler,” I explained. “Thyme and I think that he either acted alone or that he was doing it for Clara.”
Dawson laughed loudly, which m
ade Thyme and I look at each other, bewildered. “Sorry, sorry.” Dawson laughed again. “I’ve just always wanted to say, ‘The butler did it.’”
I cleared my throat and looked at Thyme. She gave me a small shrug, so I just decided to keep explaining the situation and hope that Dawson didn’t do anything else weird. Before I could get a word out, Dawson managed to stop laughing sufficiently to ask a question. “So, why don’t you think Clara did it? You said that the butler—Gilbert Lowe—either acted alone or that he was doing it for Clara, but I don’t see any reason that she wouldn’t be to blame. Not that I’m accusing her, of course!” He looked upset, as though he’d accidentally said something rude.
“Clara has a really solid alibi,” Thyme explained. “Whether or not she’s responsible, we know that she wasn’t there at the time.”
Dawson considered this for a moment. “This is all very unpleasant,” he said with a sigh. “I do hope that it was some kind of horrible accident and that nobody is to blame. I dislike the idea of somebody murdering someone.”
“Yes, I think that’s quite normal,” I said, hoping it wouldn’t offend him. “Anyway, we’re not really sure exactly why Gilbert would have helped Clara, though we think...”
“Oh, that’s because they’re having an affair,” Dawson said. “I hope that information is helpful to you both.”
“What?” I asked, bewildered. “I knew they were having an affair, but I wasn’t aware that the police knew. Did the detectives tell you?”
“No, everybody knows about it. I admit that I’m fairly new in town, so I don’t know the locals very well at all, but Sergeant Tinsdell told me about it. Everyone in town knows about Clara and Gilbert. I don’t think it was an especially well-kept secret.”
“Do you think that Chris could be a suspect?” Thyme asked.
“Chris?” Dawson looked a bit confused.
“Smallish, full of angst, annoying,” I explained.
“Ah, yes. The stepson.” Dawson was apparently lost in thought for a moment. “While I definitely don’t want to accuse him of being a suspect, of course, because that would be a terribly dreadful thing to do, I can’t totally discount the possibility. Though like I said, I’m quite new to town and don’t know the locals very well. I only knew about Clara and Gilbert because it’s quite common knowledge, and was important to the case.”
Another customer walked in, but Camino quickly served him. Luckily, he seemed entirely unperturbed by her bizarre outfit.
“Have you heard anything about other suspects?” I asked, hoping we could garner some kind of useful clue.
“Hmm, well.” Dawson shuffled back into his seat. “The detectives don’t have suspects at the moment.”
Thyme and I looked at each other, confused. “Why not?” Thyme asked.
“Well, it’s just much too unpleasant, of course. We wouldn’t want to bother anybody by suspecting them.”
I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “Hypothetically, if they did absolutely have to suspect somebody, do you know who that might be?” I asked, hoping it would be enough to get Dawson to spill the beans.
“Well, Selena, I suppose,” he finally admitted. “I overheard the detectives saying that she would be their suspect if it weren’t such an unfriendly bother. Apparently, that’s because she was with him when he died.”
I nodded. That made sense from their point of view, though it didn’t really seem to add up given what I knew. If only the police weren’t under that spell. “Is there anyone else?”
“Harrison. Similar reasons to the others, I suppose,” Dawson explained. “Of course, nothing official. We shouldn’t want to inconvenience somebody with something that heavy.”
“Of course.” I nodded, resisting the urge to walk down to the police station and throttle the police. “Do you know anything else about Harrison? Why he’d be a suspect?”
“We won’t say anything, of course. We’re just worried,” Thyme added, which seemed to be enough to set Dawson’s mind at ease.
“Well, Harrison wasn’t exactly a great supporter of Nick joining the cosmetics business with him. Actually, he only allowed it at Clara’s behest. Harrison holds a Master of Business Administration, whereas Nick was mostly an expert on shearing sheep. That’s a terribly useful skill as well, of course, but less so when dealing with a cosmetics business. I hate to say it, but Nick was apparently quite useless when it came to business management.” Dawson sighed. “It’s a real shame. I think Nick could have easily learned about business, given some time. He often had facials, so he’d have the consumer’s point of view. After all, Harrison didn’t know about business at first, either.”
“What do you mean?” Thyme asked.
Dawson looked at her, seemingly surprised that she wasn’t already aware. “His original degree was in Traditional Chinese Medicine.”
Chapter 14
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Thyme said, as soon as Dawson left the store.
“Yes, we have to investigate Harrison. He obviously didn’t like Nick being in business with him.”
Thyme agreed. “We need to look into that,” she said as she furiously polished the counter top. “I still find it highly suspicious. He easily could have got the aconite, in that case.”
“So could the butler, and you thought he was the murderer only a few hours ago,” I pointed out.
Thyme stopped polishing and looked at me. “You’re right. We have too many suspects, and two of them so far had possible access to the aconite. We’re going to have to look into Harrison. I’m beginning to think it was him, rather than Clara or the butler. Besides, it’s too much of a coincidence that he studied Traditional Chinese Medicine.”
“I had two friends in Sydney who studied it, too,” I said. “It’s not exactly a rare degree. Sure, it’s probably less common than journalism, but I can’t even be sure of that.”
“We’re going to have to investigate Harrison quite closely. Actually Amelia, Camino and I can mind the store while you investigate him.”
I clutched my hair. “No way! No way, Thyme. You said you were going to go to the hair stylist next time. Remember that time you made me get my hair cut to get information, and you said we’d take in turns?” Thyme just looked at me blankly, so I made it clear. “I don’t want to go back to get my hair cut.”
Thyme smiled widely, which did nothing to put me at ease. “You don’t have to get your hair cut, Amelia.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “Good. I’m not getting it colored, either.”
Thyme held up her hands in mock surrender. “Of course not. You don’t have to go near a hair stylist at all.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Exactly what do you have in mind?”
“Well, you know I have to do a lot of baking for the Halloween Fair that’s on tomorrow?” Thyme said.
“Yes,” I said tentatively. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Thyme smirked. “One of us has to stay and make the cupcakes for the store, and the other one needs to go and ask questions about Harrison.”
“Just spit it out. You’re making me quite tense.”
“Remember when Dawson said Nick had lots of facials?” I just glared at her, so she pushed on. “Why don’t you see if you can get an appointment with the local beauty therapist, and then you can ask her all about Nick?”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to get an appointment with a beauty therapist for at least a week,” I said hopefully. “Maybe longer.”
“Great! I’m glad you agree.” Thyme snatched up her phone.
“Hey, what are you doing?” I asked her. “You’re not making an appointment for me, are you?”
“Shush. I’m calling her now,” Thyme said. “You do want to solve the murder, don’t you? One of us has to stay and make the cupcakes. You really have no choice.”
I resigned myself to my fate. “It seems like I haven’t had much choice in a few things lately,” I said sadly.
I was hoping Thyme wouldn�
��t be able to make the appointment, but she told the lady that I had to look good for the Halloween Fair the following day, that it was her treat, and that she would pay double. She even paid over the phone with a credit card, which I suppose was the main reason the woman fitted me in.
“Off you go, Amelia. Hurry! You have to be there in five minutes.”
“How do I let you talk me into these things?” I grumbled.
“You can complain all you like later, Amelia. Right now, your mission is to find out if Nick said anything about the business.” She scrawled the salon’s address on a piece of paper, and handed it to me.
I grabbed my purse and my keys, and headed for the door. I paused at the door and looked back over my shoulder. “Hey Thyme, what sort of treatment did you book me in for? A pedicure? A manicure? A nice relaxing facial?” I added. I was a little concerned at the look that passed across Thyme’s face.
“Yes, a lovely facial,” she said unpersuasively. “And a chemical peel.”
“A chemical peel?” I echoed. “Do they hurt?”
“Of course not,” Thyme said, not at all convincingly. “Everyone has them these days. The longer you’re in the room with her, the more you can pump her for information.”
I supposed she had a point. I’d rarely ever had a facial, considering I hadn’t made that much money at my old job, and since coming to Bayberry Creek, I had been preoccupied with getting used to the fact that I was a witch and owned a store, plus had a house with its own personality. I hadn’t given much thought to having facials, or manicures or pedicures for that matter. I hoped it was going to be a relaxing experience.
I knew where the salon was. I walked up the laneway, through large wrought iron gates, and passed a sign announcing the beauty therapist’s salon. The little laneway was dusty, although devoid of trash. I opened the door to the salon, and it was like entering an oasis. The scent of lavender hung heavily on the air, and tall, healthy potted palms dotted the reception area. A short woman with flawless make-up greeted me. She had the skin of a baby, not a wrinkle in sight, but her manner was of a woman about fifty. If that’s what facials did for someone, then I was certainly going to make sure I had them on a regular basis.
