I had caught the way Becca had glanced at Claire, and it was an obvious expression of anxiety. I should know, because that was the exact look I had on my face when my mother told me about conducting a spell in the middle of a thunderstorm. But I’d made a connection that I really needed to convey to Liam, but there wasn’t a chance I could do it discreetly without being overheard.
Connection? What connection? I’m a little busy trying to stay alive over here, in case you hadn’t noticed. Do something so that I don’t die with the aftertaste of generic catnip on my tongue. Who would have thought heatstroke would have been a preferable way to go?
Sure enough, Princess seemed to be circling the room with her wide gaze glued to where Leo remained invisible. I could only hope that she didn’t draw attention to him.
“I’m sorry we have to meet under such circumstances,” Liam began, stopping short when Kathleen offered both of us a beverage.
Go back to this connection you think you’ve made. The sooner we wrap this up, the better. I think our not-so-sweet Princess has gone feral. You know, that happens when given generic catnip over a long time period, poor thing. She has succumbed to inferior pet care products.
“Becca?” I inquired of the brunette, allowing Liam to answer Kathleen regarding our drinks. “Becca Wilson? Are you related to Deputy Wilson?”
I was particularly interested in Deidre’s reaction, because she was the one who was currently holding Deputy Wilson’s handkerchief. The white squared fabric could have easily been given to the grieving widow by Becca, or even by Deputy Wilson himself in a gentlemanly fashion when making a condolence call. By the way Deidre was clutching the embroidered handkerchief to her chest, I’d say the odds were against that theory.
Ohhhhh, an old-fashioned love triangle gone bad story. We now have multiple suspects, although I still haven’t ruled out not-so-sweet Princess’ participation in this Machiavellian cabal. I’d be pushed to murder someone over the shredded cardboard pieces they sell as generic catnip. That’s it, Raven! The dead sheriff wasn’t killed because of the hexed broomstick, he was murdered by his cat!
Chapter Twelve
One hour later, Liam had finally obtained what little information he could uncover on the list of poisons that Sheriff O’Leary had clutched in his hand upon his death. What had been acquired was the story of how Deputy Wilson retrieved the broomstick…and it was nothing too miraculous. A simple trip over something buried in the woods led to the excavation of a hexed broomstick.
I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to take that broomstick and hit someone over the head with it if we don’t get out of here within the next five minutes.
It wasn’t as if Leo had to worry about Princess anymore. Deidre had noticed her cat’s odd behavior and taken her into the kitchen when she went to retrieve us two glasses of ice water. Kathleen had joined her, and everyone could make out the mumbled argument ensuing throughout the house. The two were barely speaking by the time they’d rejoined everyone in the living room.
Not to get off topic here, but do you think that your mother has corrected her earlier faux pas? Is it too much to ask for a normal day at the tea shop where I get to lounge on my pillow in the display window while occasionally making fun of the residents as they pass by? We can make that happen, you know. There’s a spell somewhere that erases the last twenty-four hours from everyone’s memory. We’ve had this conversation many times…I think.
Liam had filled in the awkward silence by asking Claire and Laura for when the last time they’d seen or spoken to Sheriff O’Leary. These couples played a card game called Euchre once a week on Wednesday, but it was Becca who had seen Sheriff O’Leary the morning of his death. It was time to come back around to that topic, and Liam was apparently on the same page with me.
“Becca, you mentioned that you were visiting your husband at the station yesterday morning,” Liam directed his statement to the brunette while holding his phone at an odd angle. “Did Sheriff O’Leary act unusual or say anything out of the ordinary that you noticed?”
Seriously? The good ol’ sheriff is trying to get you to read a text message. Do I have to do everything around here? By the way, I’m starting to itch. I think it might be a side effect from that generic catnip.
Liam and I were currently seated on the smaller sofa, so I leaned forward and pretended to adjust the hem of my skirt. The message was from Jack. It appeared that Deputy Wilson hadn’t known that Sheriff O’Leary had a trip planned into Paramour Bay yesterday morning. The first time the deputy realized the sheriff had left the township’s limits was from the subsequent phone call regarding the death of Sheriff O’Leary.
I’ve got to be allergic to the generic variety. It’s the only reasonable explanation as to why I’m itching like I’ve just rolled in a patch of poison ivy. Wait. Can cats even get poison ivy?
“Pat had the broomstick that my husband discovered during his hiking trip,” Becca revealed, though we’d already known that piece of information. “He mentioned that he was going to pay Kathleen a visit at her shop to see if she could give him any information on something so old, but Pat didn’t say anything about herbs or plants.”
I experienced a slight head rush when Becca’s reply had me straightening up on the couch. She’d completely blown apart her husband’s statement without even realizing what she’d done. Maybe my theory was wrong that Deidre and Roger Wilson were having an affair. What if Becca had mentioned hiding evidence for her husband? What if Roger Wilson had killed his boss? He was in the perfect position to cover up a crime, especially with his wife’s help.
I can’t have whiplash on top of an allergic reaction. Stick with one theory at a time, would you?
My phone vibrated, but I ignored the call. It was most likely Heidi, wondering what was going on in the investigation. If Jack was currently questioning Deputy Wilson, it was safe to assume that Heidi had been dropped back at her house. She was most likely wishing she were anywhere else now that the power had gone out again.
“Did you, by chance, hear Sheriff O’Leary discussing a case he might be investigating that involved herbs or plants of any sort?”
Whoever it was that wanted to get ahold of me was very persistent. My phone began to vibrate once more.
Your mother. That’s who is persistent, and she’s also a thorn in my—
“Excuse me,” I mumbled, leaving Liam to finish his questioning right when we’d been given our first lead. It didn’t take me long to make it to the foyer and pull out my phone. Sure enough, Leo was right about who was calling. “Mom, we’re in the middle of something, so I’m going to have to call you back.”
Don’t hang up! Sweet angel of mercy, don’t hang up that phone! Ask her if she fixed the power outage, and also let her know that we’re on to her. Mention Rowena while I try and get rid of this itch on the back of my neck. It’s enough to cause a cat to go insane.
“You’ll be happy to know that power has been restored, Beetle has reopened the tea shop, and our little broomstick problem has been taken care of,” my mother announced with pride. I, on the other hand, wasn’t sure how to react to the last matter she’d just declared. “You can thank me later. Oh, and the broomstick wasn’t the cause of that poor sheriff’s death. Isn’t that reassuring? Now, seeing as I’m in town, I thought I might be able to shed some light on your current murder mystery. I’m about to walk into this quaint antique shop that is just darling. I hadn’t realized that the store had changed hands since I’d moved away. I can’t wait to see the charming antiques. Of course, I’ll chat up the woman behind the register to see exactly what she and the sheriff discussed yesterday morning.”
Lydia must have reopened the antique shop, but that’s not what had me concerned.
I’ve decided to let this allergic reaction be the cause of my oh-so-dramatic death. Leave me, dear Raven, to die in peace. I’m not sure if squirrels even know the pleasure of catnip, but make sure that Skippy gets my emergency rations that are hidden underne
ath my pillow in the display window. He’s earned it with his tenacity and verve in his attempts to ruin my life, but in the end…I’ve always known my death would be at the hands of your mother.
“Mom, don’t you dare go in that store,” I muttered fiercely, stepping closer to the front door so that no one inside the sitting room could hear my side of the conversation. “You have some explaining to do. Even Leo knows that you would never have risked casting a spell with a thunderstorm over the bay, and don’t you dare say you didn’t know lightning was near. Even I can sense when the elements around us change. Second, Leo went to speak with Aunt Rowena about Lucille Barnes’ broomstick. Guess what? She said that she’d never heard of such a myth until recent years. Why is that? You said you were told all about the myth when you were a teenager, but that’s not quite true, is it? What are you trying to cover up, Mom?”
Really? Those are the two topics you focus on after she all but announced she somehow annihilated the broomstick in question? Priorities, Raven. Priorities.
Honestly, I was hoping that Leo’s short-term memory loss had affected mine. We had to have been mistaken about the annihilation part, as was often the problem when it came to my mother. The broomstick was safely locked up at the police station.
“Why on earth would you think I’m covering up something?”
You realize that Regina hasn’t said a word about Rowena, right? That alone is a giant red flag that your mother is guilty of something, most likely whatever this itch is underneath my fur. Ask that witch if she put a spell on me.
“Talk, Mother,” I demanded, wondering if I should call Heidi and suggest she send my mother back to the city. Having her in Paramour Bay on a mere visit was enough to send me to an early grave. “Now.”
My mother’s sigh of resignation was audible.
Be on your guard, Raven. Your mother is a master manipulator, as proven by her relationship with my BFF. I still can’t get those horrible images out of my head.
“I stole the broomstick back, cast an itsy-bitsy spell to ensure that the curse wasn’t responsible for that poor sheriff’s death, and then reburied it in a place that no one would ever think to look.”
Can we just call it a week and start anew Monday? Seriously, I’m not so sure how things go from bad to worse and then to full-on-apocalypse mode without Skippy being responsible for world domination. Oh, that’s right. We’re talking about your mother, the queen of doom.
“What do you mean that you stole the broomstick?”
It was better to begin my interrogation one question at a time, because I wasn’t sure I’d be able to talk otherwise. Liam was currently getting some valuable information to help us solve this case, and I was missing the chance to ask my own questions about what herbs and plants the sheriff might have inadvertently ingested twenty-four hours prior to his death.
“Stole might be a tad bit of an exaggeration,” my mother explained with a morsel of irritation, most likely getting aggravated by having to stand outside the antique shop in the heat. “I took back the cursed broomstick from the police station. It’s in a safe place now, and you don’t have to worry that Liam’s life will be sacrificed to the curse. Wicked hex, that one. Now, can we please move on to another topic?”
A master manipulator at her finest. Getting the truth out of your mother is like trying to get Ted to talk in complete sentences.
“No, we cannot move on from the fact that you stole something right out of a police station.” I hadn’t realized I’d taken my phone away from my ear in order to be able to yell directly into the speaker on my phone. Okay, it wasn’t so much of a yell as it was an angry whisper. “How am I going to explain that to Liam?”
Don’t bring up the good ol’ sheriff or else your mother will know what you’ve done by spilling the witch beans, if you get my drift. Stay the course, Raven, while I use this table leg to try and scratch this itch.
“I used a bit of magic to unlock the front door before carefully taking the broomstick back to the cottage for an itsy-bitsy spell after the last storm cloud passed by overhead. Before you get yourself worked up into a frenzy, no one saw a thing,” my mother reassured me, as if I was going to take her word for it after Aunt Rowena all but popped the balloon on the whole hex thing. “This murder mystery of yours is all on the up and up. No witchcraft attached to it in the least.”
You should look up the website that Lydia did for Sheriff O’Leary regarding hexed items. We’re missing something, but this maddening itch won’t let me think straight.
“That doesn’t make me feel better, Mom. You know firsthand the risk you took casting a spell on a cursed item.” I heard the vase wobble behind me, and I managed to make it across the foyer and stabilize the ornate ceramic before Leo could knock it to the floor. A quick peek inside the sitting room showed that Liam was still deep in conversation with the women. “Go back to the tea shop. Whatever you do, do not cast any more spells or get yourself caught up in this murder investigation any more than you already have.”
I disconnected the call before my mother could argue, agreeing with Leo that we’d missed something very vital when it came to the broomstick. It was almost as if it were a red herring keeping us from knowing the truth about Sheriff O’Leary’s murder.
“Leo, show yourself quick,” I whispered, kneeling low on the marble floor. “I’ll take a look and see what’s bothering you.”
Surprisingly, Leo materialized before I finished my sentence.
Well? Scratch my back! Do something before my insanity reaches a whole other level of madness.
“What is hanging from your mouth?” I asked, wiping a small morsel of food from a tuft of hair. “Were you eating out of Princess’ bowl?”
Maybe.
There was no hiding my smile, because whatever Leo had eaten out of Princess’ bowl had most likely caused an allergic reaction. It hadn’t been the catnip, but Leo had been on the right track about his hypersensitivities to certain food colorings. It was one of the reasons I stuck with the fresh natural ingredient cat food we purchased from an online website.
“Can you breathe okay?” I asked Leo, scratching the back of his neck to give him some relief from the reaction.
Leo’s left eye bulged a bit, and his whiskers twitched twice.
I don’t know. I was, but now that you brought it up…well, I’m not sure. Am I wheezing? You realize that you’re no help to me at all right now. I might as well have done an internet search on my symptoms. Did you know that hacking up a hairball leads to death? I should know, because I looked it up one time. Every symptom eventually leads to death if you follow the trail through the worldwide web, Raven. I’m a goner. This is it.
“You’re breathing just fine,” I replied wryly, tousling his ears. He hated it, but it would get his mind off his itch. There were no other symptoms, but I would give Dr. Jameson’s office a call to make sure I shouldn’t give Leo some type of antihistamine. “Now, no more eating out of other cat’s bowls.”
I really wanted to join Liam and the others in the sitting room, but Leo’s health was paramount above all else. A quick phone call revealed that I could give Leo an antihistamine, which meant a little bit of acting on my part. We were quite a drive from Paramour Bay, and I didn’t want to wait that long before giving Leo some relief from his itching.
The worst actress on the planet is going to try to pretend she has allergies to save my life. I already know the ending, so leave me to suffer in my last few minutes.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” I chastised, knowing full well that I wouldn’t have to pull something like this off by myself. Liam would step in once I was able to explain the situation, and he would see to it that Leo got his medication. “See? There are some major advantages to having Liam know our little secret.”
Death might be preferable than being turned into a toad by a council who can’t even agree on the rules for their own coven.
Leo had a point, but not about being turned into a frog. Sooner or later, the
council would have to be dealt with. In the meantime, we had a murder to solve.
And an antihistamine to track down! Do me a favor, though. I stand a better chance of survival with someone else at the helm…meaning the good ol’ sheriff. The Marigold women—sans my precious Rosemary—have the worst time with directions.
Leo didn’t bother to say another word after I gave him a look of warning, so similar to my mother’s famous arched brow. He disappeared in a puff of hair.
“Smart choice,” I muttered, slipping my cell phone into my pocket as I stood from my kneeling position. “Remind me again who couldn’t resist temptation, ended up eating out of another cat’s bowl, and now has to contend with an allergic reaction?”
Raven one…her trusty familiar one thousand and two. You’ve got a ways to go, but everyone needs to start somewhere.
Chapter Thirteen
“I really appreciate this, Kathleen,” I responded as I followed her into the kitchen. It was quite beautiful, with modern white cabinets and stainless-steel appliances. The O’Learys had to have someone come into their home on a weekly basis to keep those pots and pans hanging from the ceiling over the island free from dust. There wasn’t a smudge of use on them. “I’m not sure what caused this rash.”
I’d been able to send a text to Liam of our current predicament before entering the sitting room, so he’d been fully prepared to react when I began to scratch my arm. I didn’t keep my nails that long, but I’d created enough of an irritation for my sensitive skin to turn a slight shade of rouge. He feigned concern, asking if Deidre had any antihistamine that I might be able to take. It had worked like a charm, which was surprising given that people usually saw right through me when I was trying to pull a fast one.
You’re baiting me, aren’t you? I won’t fall for it and give you one of my awesome witty replies. I’m keeping it all to myself. At least, until I get my meds.
Broomstick Blend Page 11
