by N. M. Howell
“Thought so,” I smiled. “First, you can tell me why we traced the spell to this establishment.”
Steve sighed. “Fine. But keep it quiet from the cops, okay? Promise me that, or else I won’t tell you anything.”
I nodded.
“Also, don’t tell that guy who was just here that I told you anything, okay? I believed him when he said he’s whack me off if I talked.”
I nodded again.
“Fine. Not much money to be had in the laundry industry, as you can imagine,” Steve began. “I sell stuff on the side. You know, drugs and that sort of shit. Every now and then, I have a customer ask for some kind of spell. Who am I to say no?” He offered a half smile, but quickly withdrew it as he saw we weren’t smiling back.
“And someone came asking for a spell recently?” Rory asked.
Steve nodded. “Wanted something to temporarily stop a pulse. I’ve seen it in the movies and stuff. You know, the whole pretend to be dead so you can change your life thing, or something like that. The thing came in a vial—was some sort of potion or something. I don’t really know much about that shit.”
I gaped at him. “So, you sold someone a potion that would essentially kill them?”
He shook his head frantically. “Hell no, man. I’m not like that. Was just a trick spell, nothing serious. I don’t even deal in the hard drugs. Mostly just weed and the occasional party pills.”
“Who would want something like that?” Jane asked.
“Probably a criminal or something. Don’t gotta go to jail if they think you’re dead. You obviously don’t watch much TV. One of the oldest tricks in the book.” He laughed, but I was not amused. “Pretend to be dead, have a friend pick up your body, then, when the spell wears off, you’re free to change your identity and live your life a free man.”
“Where did you get the spell?” I demanded.
Steve shrugged. “I have a few sources. Friends of a friend, mostly. I dunno, man. As I said, I mostly just deal with other things.”
I rubbed my eyes in aggravation. “What else?”
“They kept going on about cakes and shit. I told them to mix it into an entire cake. One bite would do the trick. There was enough for like twenty doses or something. I like to give my customers value, if you know what I mean. That’s why they come back.” I was disgusted with how proud he looked.
“Did you meet the person?”
“Nope. Talked on the phone, though. It was a woman. She wanted to stay anonymous. I’m assuming some kind of baker or something, the way she talked about the damn cakes. Do you guys know what a flan is? The lady wouldn’t shut up about it.”
I felt goosebumps appear on my arms and I glanced sideways to Rory, who looked back at me with a worried expression on her face. Mrs. Pots couldn’t have done something like this, could she? Things really weren’t looking good.
“So, what would happen if the spell was condensed into one serving?” I asked.
Steve laughed. “Oh, dude. Nothing good. Don’t worry. I explained the instructions really clearly to the customer. They knew the risks.”
I shook my head. How stupid could people be?
“Give me your wallet.” I reached out my hand to him.
“What? No way, man.”
“Do it,” Bailey demanded. The wind in the room picked up again, and Steve scrambled to take his wallet out of his pocket and tossed it to me.
I pulled out his driver’s license and snapped a picture of it with my phone.
“Steve Trevor Jameson.” I placed his license back in the wallet and tossed it back to him.
“From now on you are out of the magic dealing business, got it?”
He swallowed hard but didn’t respond.
“No more spells, or else we’re going to the police,” I said. “Understand?”
Steve nodded.
“Good. And if that guy comes back, we were never here.” I looked from Bailey to Rory and Jane. “Anything else?”
They all shook their heads.
I turned my attention back to Steve. “If we find out you’re lying about not knowing the identity of your customer, you’re going to find yourself in a hell of a lot of trouble, Steve Jameson.”
Steve nodded quickly, his fear-filled eyes fixated on me.
“A lot of trouble,” I repeated.
11
Desperate to get home as soon as possible, we pretty much ran back to Emily’s apartment to grab our things and said our goodbyes.
“Tell Grace we’re going to get to the bottom of Trey’s murder,” I said as I hugged her goodbye. “Hopefully, we can help her get some closure.”
Emily smiled. “I’ll pass on the message next time I talk to her. I’m sure she’ll be grateful for the effort you guys are putting into this.”
“It’s the least we can do.” I gave her one last squeeze and then we headed out the door.
A few minutes later we were all packed in the car and on our way back out of the city.
“Well, that was a short and sweet,” Bailey said.
“Maybe not so sweet,” I countered.
I watched the city grow smaller as we drove back north along the coast. It was a nice drive, and the weather had held up nicely.
“So, what are we going to do when we get back?” Rory asked. “You don’t really think it was Mrs. Pots, do you guys?”
I sighed. “I’m not sure. I sure hope not.”
“I mean, it could have just been a huge accident or misunderstanding. Maybe, Mrs. Pots had intended to use the spell for something else, and Trey just got caught in the middle of it?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I really don’t think Mrs. Pots is the kind of person to even meddle with that kind of magic. That woman doesn’t have one vindictive bone in her body.
“Maybe she was trying to help someone out of a tough situation?” Jane offered.
We sat in silence for a while as Rory drove, and I pondered that idea for a while.
“Could be,” I finally said. “It’s out of character to use magic like that, but she does seem the type of person to go out of her way to help somebody out.”
“We don’t even know for sure that she’s the one who bought the spell to begin with,” Bailey said.
“Plus,” Rory added. “We don’t know what Zack said to the guy. For all we know, he could have planted information with the guy before we spoke to him.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe Zack was there. What the hell was he doing there? How did he know that’s where we were headed?”
“Too many questions, not enough answers,” Rory said.
“You’ve got that right.”
We spent the rest of the car ride coming up with possible explanations for all of the weird things that had happened in the past few days, but we still didn’t have any answers.
It was nearing five o’clock when we arrived back home. The drive was steady and there was barely any traffic, and we only had to stop for gas once.
Rory drove us directly to the station to visit Mrs. Pots. With any luck, she could help us set some things straight. The thought of her actually being responsible for Trey’s murder made me sick to my stomach, and the idea of that kind, loving woman being sent to state prison was more than I could bare.
The station was quiet, and we waited a while in the front office before Sheriff Reese finally came to meet us.
“Here to see Mrs. Pots?” he asked as he walked up to the front desk.
I nodded. “Yeah, do you mind if we come in? We have some questions for Mrs. Pots.”
“You and me, both,” the Sheriff replied.
I raised my eyebrow, but he didn’t add anything to that statement. We followed him as he unlocked the back door and led us to the back room.
Mrs. Pots was standing in the back corner of his office painting invisible pictures on the wall with the eraser side of a pencil.
I suppressed a laugh. Mrs. Brody must not have reversed her spell when she left yes
terday.
A broad smile was plastered across Mrs. Pots’ face, and she was humming a tune as she worked away at her invisible art piece.
“She’s been at that all day,” Sheriff Reese said. He crossed his arms and shook his head as he watched her work. “Your landlady told us not to mind her, but I’m starting to worry that she’s completely lost her mind.”
Rory laughed. “Who, Mrs. Pots or Mrs. Brody?”
Sheriff Reese looked at her and nodded. “Both, I suppose.”
I sat down on the couch against the side wall of the office. “Mrs. Pots, do you mind if we talk?”
The short, portly woman turned towards me and spread her arms out as if to give me a hug from across the room. “Oh, River, dear. What a lovely surprise. I didn’t even hear you come in.”
I grinned. “Would you like to join me on the couch, Mrs. Pots? I have some questions for you.”
I don’t know what Mrs. Brody did to her, but I was thankful that she at least seemed to be enjoying herself. You would assume that being held in a precinct as a murder suspect would be a stressful situation. She’s not locked behind bars, though, so, my guess is that the Sheriff knows just as well as we do that she’s innocent. They just have to hold her here under protocol until we can find proof against the claim that she’s responsible for Trey’s death.
Mrs. Pots came to join me on the couch and set down her pencil carefully on the side table before turning to look expectantly at me.
“Would you like a cookie, dear?” she asked me.
“Er, no, thank you, Mrs. Pots,” I answered. “I have some questions for you about what happened on Halloween. You do remember why you’re here, right?” I had no idea what sort of effect this spell had on her, but I hoped it didn’t interfere with her memory.
“Of course, dear,” she said. “I remember it perfectly.”
I nodded. “I’m sure you’re getting tired of recounting the same story to everybody, but do you mind telling me everything you remember from the party?”
“My pleasure, sweetheart.” Mrs. Pots stood and stepped away from the couch. She then turned to everyone in the room and spread her arms out dramatically as she prepared herself for what looked like was going to be a dramatic reenactment of Halloween night.
“It was just before midnight, and the young man and who planned to steal my business came to talk to me at the dessert table.”
I rubbed my eyes. “You know, you’re really not helping your case by saying things like that, Mrs. Pots.”
She waved her hand at me in disregard. “Oh, nonsense.” She then cleared her throat before continuing. “He was actually quite lovely and was explaining how he was planning on settling down here, maybe starting a family with Grace. He was ever so enthusiastic about my cookies, which was very flattering.”
“We all love your cookies,” Sheriff Reese said. He pulled up a chair next to the couch and took a seat.
“I know, dear,” Mrs. Pots said. “You really should cut back, though. It’s starting to show around the middle, if you know what I mean.”
I did my best to suppress a laugh, but it sneaked out anyways. Sheriff Reese blushed and did not look impressed. I pretended to ignore him and looked intently up to Mrs. Pots. “What happened next?”
“I offered him my new pumpkin butter cookie,” she said. “He took a bite and… well, you know the rest.”
“I’d prefer if you told it to the end,” Sheriff Reese said.
She sighed and her eyes filled with sadness. “The poor boy fell to the ground, and that was it. Didn’t even seem to choke or show any sign of struggle. He just… fell.”
Sheriff Reese turned to me and frowned. “Like I said before, the lab found no trace of poison. The autopsy revealed no sign of respiratory struggle, though, either. It appears he didn’t choke, so, I’m inclined to believe your hypothesis about something supernatural being involved.”
“It’s not simply a hypothesis,” I told him. “There’s no doubt that the cookie was spelled with dark magic. The only thing we don’t know is if it was an accident or intentional, and if it was intentional, who did it and why.”
Sheriff Reese nodded. “Exactly. You realize, being the only witches in town, this doesn’t bode well for you and your house?”
I raised my eyebrow. “We were the ones to tell you about the spell. If we had anything to do with this, which is absolutely ridiculous, why would we have told you the cookie was spelled in the first place?”
The Sheriff nodded and rubbed his eyes. “I know. It’s just we have nothing else to go on, and I’m at a complete loss when it comes to this sort of thing.”
“We’ll help in any way that we can,” I said.
We all sat in silence for a few minutes, lost in our own thoughts.
A knock came from the front room and Sheriff Reese excused himself.
I looked up to my housemates, who looked just as defeated as I felt.
“Mrs. Pots, have you been to New York recently?” I asked her when I was sure Sheriff Reese was out of ear shot.
“My dear, I haven’t left Brimstone Bay in decades. Why do you ask?”
“It’s just that we traced the spell that killed Trey back to a location in New York. We managed to find the person who sold it.”
Mrs. Pots blinked. “Did you find anything?”
I shook my head, not wanting to share every detail of what we learned. It was probably best to keep the part of the buyer likely being a baker a secret until we know more. “Just that someone purchased the spell knowing full well the effect it would have on the victim.”
“I see.” Mrs. Pots nodded thoughtfully. “But how did it get in my cookie?”
I sighed. “I don’t know, Mrs. Pots. Are you absolutely sure you don’t know anything more about this? Anything that could help us find out who did this?”
Mrs. Pots shook her head. “No, I honestly have no idea. No one had access to anything I baked until I put them out on the table on Sunday. But I guess anyone could have done something then?”
I turned back to the girls. “Sounds like it was likely someone at the party.”
“I honestly can’t think of anyone in Brimstone Bay who would do something like this. Especially, to someone new to town,” Rory said.
“What if it was just an accident?” Bailey asked.
I shrugged. “That idea worries me more than if Trey were murdered.”
“What do you mean?” Rory asked, joining me on the couch.
“Well,” I began. “If it was an accident, then that means a toxic spell somehow found its way into Mrs. Pots’ cookies without anyone knowing. If that’s the case, then we’re all at risk of being poisoned or, worse, killed.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” Mrs. Pots said, holding her hands against her cheeks and shaking her head back and forth dramatically. “My baking. You mean my baking is all at risk? My baking could kill more people?”
“We didn’t sense any magic in any of the other items on Mrs. Pots’ table when we searched, remember?” Jane said.
I nodded. “Right, which makes me think that it was definitely intentional.”
“Besides, who would go to the trouble of sourcing a dark magic spell all the way from New York if not for a specific purpose?”
“That makes sense,” Bailey said.
“What makes sense?” Mayor Scott said as he followed Sheriff Reese back into the office.
“Hey, Mayor Scott,” I said, smiling up at the Mayor as he took a seat on the edge of the desk across the room.
He nodded to me. “What makes sense?” he repeated.
“We were just saying how we think the act was intentional,” I said. “The spell was isolated to that one cookie. It was definitely meant to harm somebody. Whether Trey was the target, I’m not sure.”
The Mayor rubbed his chin in thought. “I see. And Mrs. Pots was the one who gave the cookie to Trey?”
Mrs. Pots nodded. “Yes, that was me.”
“We’ve been over this,” I said. I
stood and began pacing the room. “She had no idea the cookie was poisoned. Someone must have planted it there in the hopes that it would be eaten.”
“Anyone could have eaten it, though,” Mayor Scott said.
I nodded. “In theory, yes.”
“We’ll have to assume it was intended for Trey for now. That way we can keep our investigation focused. If we learn anything that suggests otherwise, we will act accordingly. Until then, we’re searching for anything that will help lead us to the person responsible for the murder.”
“We’ll do our best to assist in the investigation,” I said to Sheriff Reese.
The Sheriff nodded and rubbed his chin. “We need to get to the bottom of this, fast. The state police are responsible for murder investigations, and if we can’t prove Mrs. Pots’ innocence, then I’m afraid they’ll be taking over sooner than we anticipate.”
“Who else was near Trey when it happened?” Mayor Scott answered.
“Grace, his wife,” I said.
“Statistically, it’s often the spouse,” Sheriff Reese said. “We’ll certainly have to bring her in for questioning. Does anyone have any reason to believe she was involved?”
I shook my head. “They’re planning on starting a family. Or they were, in any case.”
“She was absolutely hysterical when it happened,” Bailey said. “I can’t imagine she could have made that up.”
“Besides, it doesn’t make sense to kill your business partner when he’s the one responsible for the success of the business,” I added, trying to think pragmatically. “I really don’t think there’s any way she could have done it.”
“I agree with you,” Sheriff Reese said. “Besides, it wouldn’t have made sense for her to do it so publicly. There are much more discreet ways to murder a spouse.”
I rolled my eyes. “Could we not talk about this, right now? It’s getting a little morbid, and Grace is my friend. She needs support right now, not a bunch of people talking about her behind her back.”
“You’re right,” Mayor Scott said. “We need to focus our attentions on finding the real killer. If the state finds out we’re holding a potential suspect here, they’ll want to take her away to their own facilities.”
