Beside me, Fitz cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed. “To Hattie.”
Everyone lifted their glasses and said, “To Hattie.” No one sounded particularly enthused.
The birthday girl drank her mead with a speed usually reserved for frat boys at a keg party. I was gobsmacked that she wouldn’t choose to savor the taste of the special drink she only allowed herself to enjoy once per year. Maybe there was something about reaching the age of two hundred that made one hasty.
We sat back in our seats and, as Hattie lowered herself down, she missed the chair and fell onto the floor. At least that was what I assumed happened. It was only when I saw Lacey's ashen face and Ella drop to the floor beside her that I realized something much worse had occurred.
“Help her!” Lacey cried. “I think she’s having a heart attack.”
“Aunt Hattie!” Ella cried.
We hovered over Hattie as she gripped her chest and her face turned a deep shade of purple that matched the mead.
Fitz kneeled beside her and tried to administer emergency life-saving techniques, but it was too late.
Hattie Rollins-Mahoney was dead.
Chapter Three
“Why call the sheriff if Aunt Hattie had a heart attack?” Ella asked.
We sat in the formal living room, awaiting the arrival of Sheriff Nash and Deputy Bolan. No one wanted to sit in the dining room with Hattie’s lifeless body.
“It’s standard procedure, miss,” Sampson said. “I’ve taken the liberty of calling the healer, too, as their office will most likely perform the autopsy. It’s more efficient than waiting for the sheriff’s office to arrange for transport.”
Fitz pointed a finger at the butler. “Always thinking, Sampson,” he said.
“Does there need to be an autopsy?” Ella asked. She seemed distressed. To be fair, everyone did, including me.
“Fair point,” Fitz said. “I don’t know that you need a cause of death for a two hundred-year-old morgen.”
“I bet she was still in shock from the chandelier falling,” Avonne said. “Her blood pressure was probably way up, but it didn’t really hit her until she went to relax.”
“That’s plausible,” Stone said. He sat beside his wife with his hand resting on her thigh.
Lacey glanced worriedly at the shared wall between the living and dining rooms. “I hate leaving her alone in there. It feels disrespectful.”
“Look at it this way,” Fitz said, “Grandmother won’t give you a hard time about it now.”
“Fitz, don’t be horrible,” Ella scolded him.
The doorbell rang and I waited to see whether the sheriff or the healer would arrive first.
Sheriff Granger Nash swaggered into the living room, ready for action. His brow lifted when he registered my presence. “One wealthy family not enough for you, Rose? Expanding your empire?”
“I’m here on assignment for the paper,” I said.
He scratched his beard. “The paper heard about this before we did?”
I shook my head. “No, I was covering Hattie’s birthday party for the society section. No one expected her to die.” Or did they?
Deputy Bolan toddled in after him. The leprechaun nearly had a heart attack of his own when he spotted me in the room. “You can’t be serious.” He glanced at the sheriff. “I’d better keep my eye on you. The longer you two date, the more I worry you’re going to end up in a body bag.”
“You two are an item?” Fitz asked. I couldn’t tell whether he was disappointed or surprised.
The sheriff gave a brief nod. “In the interest of full disclosure, Miss Rose and I are courting.”
I pressed my lips together in an effort not to laugh. Who said courting? Then again, it was kind of adorable.
“Grandmother was two hundred years old,” Fitz said, stepping forward. “It can hardly surprise anyone that she finally hit her limit.”
“Be that as it may,” the sheriff said, “we may as well take a look around. Once we get the autopsy report, we’ll know for sure what we’re dealing with.”
“On that note, we’d like everyone to stay put for the time being,” Deputy Bolan said. “We need to secure the area and then we’ll be asking you some questions.”
“If there’s any staff in the house, we’ll need a word with them, too,” the sheriff added.
“I’ll alert Mrs. Ballywick,” Sampson said. “She’s the housekeeper.”
“No chef?” the sheriff inquired. “How about a gardener? That’s a nice piece of property to keep orderly.”
“No chef,” Fitz said. “The gardener comes twice a week. He was here yesterday.”
“Mr. Burroughs was here earlier today as well,” Sampson said. “Your grandmother was unhappy with his work on the bushes in the southeast garden and requested that he return before the party to make the necessary improvements.”
“And where’s the deceased?” the sheriff asked.
“In the dining room,” Lacey said, her voice cracking.
I raised my hand. “Um, sheriff? Do I need to stay, too?”
His eyes twinkled as his gaze rested on me. “No special treatment, Rose. Don’t worry. I won’t be long. I know how your bladder works.”
He wasn’t wrong. I’d be desperate for the bathroom before too long.
“Looks like there was an issue with the chandelier in the foyer,” the deputy said. “Can anybody shed light on that?” He chuckled. “No pun intended.”
“It fell earlier,” Avonne said. “We were all going to the front of the house to see one of Grandmother’s gifts when it came crashing down. If it weren’t for my husband….” She trailed off. I knew what she intended to say—Grandmother would still be alive. Except she wasn’t. His heroics had served no purpose.
Sheriff Nash scanned the group. “The chandelier came down on your grandmother?”
“We were all moving through the foyer at the same time, really,” Stone said. “Hattie and I were leading the way. The chandelier came loose as we crossed beneath it. I managed to get us both to safety.” His expression clouded over. “Not that it matters now.”
“Hmm,” the sheriff said. “Did you make a note of that, Deputy?”
“Sure did, boss.”
The doorbell rang and Sampson returned a couple of minutes later with Cephas, one of the local druid healers. “This is not a resuscitation, I take it?”
“Sorry, no,” the sheriff replied. “We’ll be needing the autopsy report. Natural causes is likely, but there’s a busted chandelier that suggests there might be more to it.”
“That chandelier is more ancient than Grandmother,” Avonne said. “It’s not surprising that it finally came loose.”
“And she was two hundred today,” Fitz said. “You can’t exactly complain when you make it that far.”
“Depends on your species,” the sheriff said. “Two hundred for a werewolf would be a miracle. If I were a vamp, I might be a tad disappointed.”
Deputy Bolan snickered. “Everybody stay here while we secure the dining room and let Cephas get to work.”
“Oh, crap-on-a-stick,” I said.
The leprechaun eyed me. “Is there a problem, Ember?”
I looked uneasily from the deputy to the sheriff. “The butler may have already cleaned up the dining room.”
Splotches of red appeared on Deputy Bolan’s green face. He looked like he was morphing into an angry Christmas tree. “Let me get this straight—you leave dishes in the sink for days, but you let this guy clean everything out from under you? That’s against your nature.”
“How do you know I leave dishes in the sink?” I glared at the sheriff from across the room.
The sheriff’s gaze shifted away from me and he began to whistle.
The deputy sighed loudly. “Once I’m done investigating the foyer, maybe you could do a spell that cleans up the mess, so no one gets a foot full of crystal?”
I saluted him. “I’m at your disposal, Deputy Bolan.”
The lepr
echaun blew out an annoyed breath. “Sometimes I wish you were in my disposal,” he muttered.
“What a lovely house,” Cephas said, gazing at the expensive furnishings. “Not a bad place to end a long life, really.”
The sheriff arched an eyebrow. “That all depends on how it ended.”
“What do I buy for a house full of girls?” I asked. Florian and I were shopping in town after my release from the Rollins Estate. Although I was still a little shaken up after watching a stranger die in front of me, I had a daughter’s monumental eleventh birthday party to focus on.
Florian smirked. “I can tell you my go-to purchases for a house full of girls….”
I grimaced. “Florian, they’re ten and eleven years old.”
“Hmm. In that case, I have no suggestions. You should’ve brought Linnea.” He grabbed a demon mask from the shelf and put it on. “To be young again. I miss those days.”
I stopped in the middle of the aisle and stared at his demonic face. “You have more money than Zeus. You have almost no responsibility. You’re incredibly handsome and nauseatingly charming.” I paused. “What exactly do you miss about your eleven-year-old self?”
Florian removed the mask and I saw his expression soften. “My dad was alive then.”
“Oh.” I felt awful. My cousin rarely displayed any genuine emotions and now I’d brought him close to tears in the toy aisle. Go me!
He set the mask back on the shelf. “No worries. Let’s concentrate on that darling daughter of yours. She’s not that keen on toys, is she?”
“No, but I need party bags for the other girls,” I said. “I have no idea what a typical girl likes.” Marley had never been typical for her age, so my frame of reference was completely skewed.
“You should have asked Bryn, actually,” Florian said. “She’s been eleven the most recently of all the Roses.”
“Yes, but she’ll give me that look of disdain that teenagers perfect so well whenever I suggest something,” I said. “And Hudson will probably choose…whatever werewolf boys like.”
Florian wiggled his eyebrows. “Werewolf girls.”
I continued down the aisle and turned the corner. “I can’t stop thinking about Hattie and her family. You should meet her grandson, Fitz. He’s your non-magical counterpart.”
“I probably have met him,” Florian said. “Starry Hollow isn’t that big. I just don’t pay attention to my own gender unless they’re supplying me with something I like.”
I stood in front of an entire section of magical craft supplies. “This might work. Do girls like crafts?”
“Can’t you ask the mothers from school that you befriended?” He hesitated, suddenly remembering how my brief entanglement with the Power Puff moms panned out. The short answer was: not fabulous.
“I’m better off figuring this out on my own,” I said.
“I feel like that was your way of life in New Jersey,” Florian said. “Starry Hollow should be an improvement. Don’t operate in a vacuum when you have resources available to you.” He paused. “Not me, of course. I’m not remotely a resource for you under these circumstances.”
“You’re a big help, Florian. Don’t sell yourself short.” I began to fill my basket with magical yarn that changed colors depending on the color it was adjacent to. Chameleon Crochet.
“Are you going to get Marley anything magic related for her present?” Florian asked.
“Definitely not,” I said. “What if she doesn’t come into her magic? She’d be devastated to open a starter wand and not be able to use it.”
“I guess that would be upsetting.” Florian grabbed a selection of crochet hooks and patterns and chucked them into the basket. “She doesn’t have any vampire friends coming over, does she? These might be hazardous if someone draws blood.”
“There is one vampire,” I said. I contemplated my potential purchases. “I don’t need a midnight tragedy during our first sleepover.”
“Speaking of first sleepovers….”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, boy. Why do I already know where this is going?”
“Whenever you want to get it on with your big, bad wolf, just send Marley over to me or Linnea…even Aster, as long as the twins won’t scar her.”
I turned away from him and focused on the crafts. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
“You should be enjoying yourself, Ember,” he said. “You’ve got a guy who’s totally into you. He’s the sheriff, so he’s got that sexy swagger and the whole air of authority thing going on.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you might want a sleepover with the sheriff.”
“You know my gender preference,” he replied. “I’m only looking out for your interests.”
“And I appreciate that,” I said. “You’re a good cousin.”
“I know you’d do the same for me,” he said, “mainly because you have.”
“No second thoughts about Delphine?” I asked. He’d briefly dated Delphine Winter, the town librarian, but they’d recently parted as friends.
“None,” he said. “I’m not ready to settle down, no matter how much my mother wants it to happen.”
I selected a few more items from the craft aisle, including felt and blank masks, and paid at the register. “What if I’m not ready to settle down?” I asked. “I don’t know that I should be encouraging sleepovers if I can’t fully commit.”
Florian took the bag from my arms and opened the door of the shop. Despite his womanizing behavior, he was still a gentleman in many ways.
“You are ready, Ember,” he said. “You’ve already been through a lot in your life at a young age. You’re just afraid and it’s perfectly understandable.”
“What’s Rose understandably afraid of?” Sheriff Nash appeared on the pavement in front of us.
“Ghosts,” I said quickly. My heart began to beat rapidly. “The ones that move things.” I snapped my fingers. “Poltergeists.”
The sheriff cocked his head. “I see. Glad I ran into you. I have the results from Hattie’s autopsy.”
“That was fast,” I said.
“I asked Cephas to put a rush on it,” he said. “I had a feeling we weren’t looking at natural causes.”
“So it wasn’t a heart attack?” I asked.
“Oh, it was a heart attack, but not a naturally occurring one,” he replied.
I squinted. “So not because of the falling chandelier or stress of the party?”
“No,” he replied. “We found a substance in her system called celeritas. An accelerant that’s used in speed potions, as well as a lot of calorie burning potions.”
“Was she taking any potions?” I asked. It seemed feasible that a two hundred-year-old woman would be taking at least a couple of them.
“Not anything with celeritas, according to her butler or housekeeper,” the sheriff said.
“How do you think it got into her system?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Based on the information we have, it looks like someone tampered with her special mead. It’s the one item that would’ve masked the taste and celeritas is pretty fast-acting, especially in someone Hattie’s age. Anyway, I got a list of everything she ate and drank that day from Sampson, just to make sure we’re not missing anything. That butler’s a detailed fella.”
“Like Simon,” I said, glancing at Florian.
“You have to be detail-oriented when you work for a demanding head of household,” Florian said. “You need thick skin, too.”
“What are your next steps?” I asked the sheriff.
“Talk to everyone at the party again and the rest of her staff,” he replied. “Find out who stands to inherit the estate so we can assess motives. That sort of thing. You know the drill, Rose.”
“My society article has now been moved to the front page,” I said. “Count me in for questioning.”
“You were there,” the sheriff said. “I need to question you again.” He winked. “Maybe I could do that part somewhere nice and quiet where w
e can really talk.”
“Like her bedroom?” Florian offered.
I elbowed my cousin in the ribs and he nearly dropped the bag of crafts.
The sheriff struggled to keep a straight face. “A bedroom probably isn’t the most professional of places for an interrogation.”
“Oh? Now it’s an interrogation?” I asked. “That sounds more intense. I thought it was a few questions.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “It’s always more intense when it’s you and me, Rose.”
Florian took a big step forward. “On that intimate note, I’ll meet you at the car, Ember.”
Sheriff Nash chuckled. “Too hot for you to handle, Florian?”
My cousin didn’t answer. He strode to the car, leaving me alone with my sort-of boyfriend.
“How about it, Rose?” he asked, edging closer. “Dinner tonight?”
“I’ll see if Mrs. Babcock can make dinner for Marley,” I said. My pulse quickened as he leaned down to kiss my cheek.
“Sounds like a date.” He patted his stomach. “I’ll go easy on lunch, so as not to ruin my appetite for you…I mean, for dinner.”
The gesture triggered a memory from Hattie’s party. “Lacey,” I said. “Hattie’s eldest grandchild.”
“What about her?”
“She was trying to lose weight,” I said. “She mentioned a calorie burning potion. We should talk to her before we go to dinner.”
The sheriff gave me an admiring look. “I can always count on you to worm your way into an investigation.”
“Maybe I just like spending time with you,” I said.
“Ha! A bald-faced lie,” he said, “but I’ll take it.” He kissed me again, this time full on the lips. “I’ll pick you up at six so we have time to swing by Lacey's before dinner.”
I stood on the pavement, my whole body energized by the kiss. “I’ll be ready.”
Chapter Four
Lacey’s modest house was so unlike Hattie’s sprawling estate, it was hard to believe the occupants were related. Although Linnea and Aster’s houses weren’t comparable to Thornhold, they both reflected a certain elegance and style that had clearly been passed down by their mother. I couldn’t say the same for Lacey.
Magic & Malice Page 3
