Chapter 25
A nagging little voice reminded me that I’d seen Lennox Lyons in that last vision, too, and that there had been blood on his door handle. A part of me argued that searching his place would be easier. I could probably find a spare key to the guesthouse somewhere in the main one, and if the security guys caught me, I could always just tell Bryn the truth. I winced. That was the problem. I didn’t want Lennox to be guilty of killing Gwen or, worse, of having something to do with Cassandra’s death. How much would that hurt Bryn? So maybe I’d come up with some other excuse, but at least I needed to know the truth myself.
I went to Br yn’s mansion. Security Pete told me that John Barrett and Mrs. Thornton had been by, but when he’d told them that we weren’t home, they’d left.
I found spare keys for the guesthouse in a kitchen drawer and slipped them into my pocket. I picked up the security phone and got the phone number for the guesthouse from Pete. I didn’t tell him why I wanted it, and he didn’t ask. It was pretty convenient, his seeming to be willing to let me do whatever I wanted.
When I called, Lennox answered on the third ring.
"Hello? Lennox?”
"Speaking,” he said.
"It’s Tammy Jo Trask.”
"And?”
"Bryn needs your help at the Corsic Creek Bridge.” I hoped sending him across town would give me enough time to do a proper search.
"What sort of help? And why there?”
I chewed on my lip. “He didn’t tell me.”
"And you have no idea what’s happening?”
"Nope.”
"Hmm.”
"So are you going to help him or what?” I asked impatiently.
“I suppose I will.”
"Don’t sound worried or anything. He’s just your son, after all.”
Lennox hung up on me.
"Jerk,” I mumbled, putting the receiver down a little too hard. "Sorry, phone. Shouldn’t bang the messenger.”
I waited until I saw Lennox’s car leave the property before I hurried along the path with a flashlight. The fog would delay his progress to the bridge. I’d have plenty of time. And luckily Bryn was the one who did the wards on the property, not Lennox, so I wouldn’t have to worry about tripping them.
I got to the house and unlocked the door, going inside. It smelled faintly of chicory and woodsmoke. He’d had another fire burning recently and this one in the house. I checked through the fireplace ashes, but didn’t find anything.
I started with Lennox’s room. If I were going to hide a brooch with my dead wife in it, I’d keep it as close to me as possible. His bed linens were rumpled. I pulled them off and made the bed piece by piece to be sure that the brooch wasn’t hidden in the covers.
Then I rifled through the drawers. Nada. On the bedside table, there was an empty glass with a little whiskey left in it and a framed wedding picture lying on its back. I picked it up. Lennox in a black tuxedo and Cassandra in a white wedding gown with tons of lace. They looked really young and really happy, each with beaming white smiles.
“Find what you’re looking for, Nancy Drew?”
I jumped and spun around to find Lennox in the doorway.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, standing the picture on the bedside table.
“Shouldn’t that be my line?” he asked.
“I’m searching this house,” I said. “I thought it would be less awkward if you were gone, but whatever.” I wasn’t going to act embarrassed or guilty. Lennox Lyons was a half-assed father and a thief. It had only been a couple of weeks since he’d almost gotten me killed. What’s more, I’d helped save his life. “You didn’t even want to check to see if Bryn needed you? You don’t even care?”
“If Bryn needed me, he would’ve called himself or given you a code word that would’ve let me know what was needed.”
“Oh,” I said, going to the closet and opening the door. Lennox put a hand out and shut it forcefully.
“Last night, you had blood on your hands and probably burned bloody clothes. Did you kill Gwen?”
He looked surprised for a moment and then said, “Did you?”
“No, why would I?”
“Why would I?”
“I think you wanted something that she had. Something that used to belong to Cassandra.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Either you know, and I don’t need to tell you. Or you don’t know, and you’re better off not knowing.”
He grabbed my arms and squeezed them tight. “You will tell me what you’re talking about.”
“Did you kill Gwen?”
“No. When I got there, she was already dead. Your turn,” he said.
“I think she had a brooch that used to belong to your wife.”
He let go of my arms with a little shove to push me away from him. “How?”
“Nope, your turn first. Why did you go to see Gwen?”
Lennox rolled his eyes. “To help my son. Gwen was still in love with him. That could’ve been an advantage during the investigation, but I knew he wouldn’t seduce her with you turning up like a bad penny every five minutes.”
“So what were you going to do? Promise to help her get rid of me?”
He clucked his tongue. “My turn to ask a question. Where would Gwen have gotten Cassie’s brooch from?”
“She stole it from me, and before you ask, I don’t know who sent it to me. It came from London. Did Cassandra know John Barrett?”
Lennox shrugged. “Sure. Her family was well connected and so was his, but after she met me, she didn’t spend much time with her old set.”
“Why not?”
“Because I wanted her all to myself.”
Selfish, that sounded like the Lennox I knew. “How did you meet?”
“We were both musicians.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“She was classically trained as a cellist and was an excellent composer. She had broad tastes in music and came to a club where my band was playing. A witch and a wizard in a small space. We couldn’t help but notice each other.”
“Did you fall in love right away?”
"No, of course not. I was a cynic and an up-and-coming rock star. She said at least eight words before I made up my mind about her.”
I smiled. "What were they?”
"That’s a lovely guitar. Must you mistreat it?”
I laughed softly. “She was wonderful?”
Pain crinkled the skin around his eyes. “She was . . . none of your business,” he said.
"She’s my business. I didn’t ask for her to be, but she is.” I paused, then added, “I saw her ghost, and she asked for my help.”
"Bollocks.”
I drew my brows together in confusion.
"That means I don’t believe you. You didn’t see her. No one has seen her spirit since the night it left her body.”
In that moment, I knew that Bryn wasn’t the only Lyons who’d tried to see Cassandra again. “I think that’s because someone bound her spirit. Probably with a spell that specifically blocks the people that loved her from finding her.”
"Bryn would’ve broken through it. You have no idea the kind of things he was willing to do to get to her.”
"So whoever did the binding was really powerful. Like maybe John Barrett. Did Barrett live in Revelworth at the time that she was murdered there?”
"The murder was solved. There was a magical trail, thick as paste. She’d been there seeing her family and her former teachers. Extremely brilliant and powerful people. If there had been any doubt, any possibility of another person being involved, it would’ve been found. They loved her, and they were bloodthirsty in their pursuit of justice.”
"Where were you when she died?”
There was a haunted look in his eyes. "What does it matter where I was? Not there,” he spat. "But I don’t take responsibility for her dying alone. It was Cassie and her family who decided she would visit while I was on the road. We fought a
bout it, but she insisted on the timing. She could be so stubborn. I think she thought it would be easier to go on her own. So I finally agreed. I sent them my wife, and they let her get butchered.” His voice was raw, like someone had dragged a grater down his throat.
“It must have been very hard for you,” I whispered.
He walked down the hall to the liquor cabinet and swigged from a bottle. I trailed after him.
“Lennox, I’m sorry.”
“Just go away.”
He was in pain. Since I couldn’t help, I left him alone with it.
Chapter 26
Back at the main house, I went to the kitchen and mixed a sleeping serum from the spellbook. Valerian, whiskey, cider, and a dash of nutmeg. I whispered the spell over it and poured it into a vial I’d borrowed from Bryn’s potion-making closet.
Then I brewed some tea and filled a basket with patterned teacups and saucers, a large thermos of hot tea, and some scones and small cakes. English people in movies can never resist tea and cakes. With cakes involved, who can blame them?
When I passed the gates at the end of Bryn’s property on my way out, two pairs of headlights blinked on. Cars lying in wait.
“Now what?”
I spotted Jenna and Lucy in one of the cars.
“You again,” I muttered. I didn’t have time to mess around. I wanted to get my burglary over with before the police discovered the dead body. And before the tea in the thermos got cold.
My car jerked as they bumped into it. I blasted my horn to warn them off. A second big bump told me they were doing it on purpose to rattle me. With it too dark for anyone to witness what was happening and with it dark enough for them to claim it was an accident, they were getting bolder.
The other car drew up alongside me. The interior light was on, and I spotted Sue, who was driving. I rolled down my window. Jenna bumped the back of my car again, making me lurch against my seat belt and bite my tongue. I shook my fist out the window, not that they’d be able to see it.
Sue’s car swerved again, but I managed to avoid getting hit by moving all the way to the left and scraping my tires against the curb. This was crazy. What if there had been a parked car? I’d have sideswiped it and felt compelled to leave a note. Could I afford higher insurance premiums? No, I could not.
Sue’s car rolled along beside me, not giving me an inch of room, and I realized it was only a matter of time until a parked car popped up in front of me. Then they’d have me boxed in on all sides.
“I don’t think so.” I pressed my foot down and sped up. My lights flashed on the back of a parked car and I swung my wheel to keep from hitting it.
Unfortunately for Sue, she had sped up with me and I rammed the edge of her car when I’d darted out to avoid the parked one. She careened sideways, jumped the opposite curb, and ran into a tree. Poor tree.
I drove farther to see if Jenna and Lucy would help their friend or stay in pursuit. Jenna didn’t even slow down. I should’ve known. Jenna doesn’t know the meaning of friendship.
I sped up after the stop sign, drawing her forward. Then I hit the brakes, and she banged into me. I threw my car into park, then jumped out and raced back to Jenna’s. I slammed the butt of my gun twice against the driver’s side window. Both she and Lucy shrieked. Lucy with fear. Jenna with fury.
The window shattered, and I socked Jenna in the cheek to stun her. Then I reached in, turned off the car, and yanked out her keys.
“I don’t have time for this. You need to go on home.”
Jenna held her cheek and glared at me.
“Y’all started it,” I said, my knuckles smarting. As I walked away, I opened and closed my fist. I’m not usually violent. For a lot of years, the only thing I whipped was cream. Actually, before I’d come into my powers a couple weeks earlier, I’d never been in a real fight in my whole life. Mostly I got along with people, and any tiffs at school had been minor. Plus, Zach had always been around. Zach and his brothers didn’t put up with bullies. I had a small pang of missing Zach, but pushed him from my mind.
A close look at my crumpled back bumper made me shake my head and frown. I needed to send the Reitgartens a bill. I guess I’d shocked them with my window-smashing, cheek-socking routine, because instead of getting out of their car to come after me, Jenna and Lucy just screamed out their windows at me. It was real unusual hearing the psalms mixed with four-letter words.
“My herbs and oils better be okay,” I grumbled as I got behind the wheel.
I drove to the hotel and circled the parking lot to be sure there were no police cars. Actually, the place looked almost deserted.
I parked on a street a block away from the hotel and hefted my picnic basket. I passed through the wooded lot behind the hotel’s property.
Gwen had been in Room 5. Mrs. Thornton was next to her in Room 6. Room 4 was around the corner, so I thought it was more likely that John Barrett would be next door to Mrs. Thornton in Room 7.
I couldn’t resist trying to look in Gwen’s room, but it was too dark to see the body. Of course, nothing would’ve changed. If the body had been found, there would’ve been crime scene tape and flashing lights.
I went to the front door of Room 7 and noted that the light was on inside. I tapped several times. I was just beginning to wonder whether he’d gone out and left the light on, when he opened the door.
His eyebrows rose in surprise, then he smiled, his eyes twinkling. I had to remind myself that he was a homicidal maniac.
“Well, Tammy, please come in,” he said. “Mrs. Thornton was worried that you and Bryn had absconded. I didn’t think it likely, but when we didn’t find you at home . . .”
I glanced around the room. Fish everywhere! On the wallpaper, bedspread, and the tablecloth on the small round table.
“Yes, Bryn and I went out early this morning. We should’ve called to let you know, but things were kind of hectic. Anyway, I wanted to talk some things over with you. I brought tea and cakes. May I?” I asked, pointing to the table where there were a couple of open files. The file boxes under the table looked exactly like the ones that had been in Gwen’s room.
“Yes, please,” he said, closing the files and setting them on the edge of the bed, which was neatly made. That seemed weird. If the maid had cleaned the rooms, why hadn’t she called the police? If the maid hadn’t been, then Mr. Barrett was really neat for a world leader/psycho killer.
I laid out the cakes and poured tea, putting some of the serum into his tea when his back was turned.
I really wanted to know if Mrs. Thornton was in her room. I would’ve mentioned her and told him to invite her over for tea, too, so I could drug her and search her room as well, but I didn’t trust that I could put anything over on the Winterhawk. She’d probably see right through me. Plus, it was my first poisoning. Starting with one victim seemed more sensible.
I’d made sure that I brought cups with different floral patterns. I took a sip from the yellow rose cup and left the poisoned purple rose cup for Mr. Barrett. I put scones and double chocolate pecan cookies on small plates.
He moved a piece of rolled paper off his chair and set it on the bed. It partway unrolled, and I could see it was a map of Duvall.
"It’s the town?” I asked, walking over.
"Indeed,” he said, sitting down and taking a bite of an iced cranberry-orange scone.
I unrolled the map further, cocking my head at the highlighted sections of town. I looked up at the legend, but there wasn’t any explanation of the highlighter colors. I leaned closer and realized that the map hadn’t come that way. Mr. Barrett had done the highlighting himself.
"What do these colors mean?”
"Oh, just some planning we’re doing. You said that you wanted to talk to me about some things?”
I went back to the table, gratified that he’d drunk half of his cup of tea and poured some more.
I took a few swallows myself and had a cookie. “Bryn said there are whole towns in England with magical
people.”
"Yes. Revelworth being the most famous,” he said with a smile. “Completely inhabited by witches and wizards, a place of collected wisdom and power. There’s a very long waiting list of people who would dearly like to live there.”
"Well, Duvall’s a long way from England.”
"Yes, it is. Revelworth is where your grandmother lives. Did you know? You could stay in the village in your family house. Such an incredible opportunity. Many would envy you.” He yawned, and so did I. In fact, my throat felt strange, kind of prickly. I looked sharply at my cup. Definitely the yellow rose. Definitely not the one I’d poured the serum into.
"A wise witch would use any advantages she was given in life, especially foretelling that never fails,” he said.
"What?”
"Your great-great-grandmother Lenore was a seer whose every prophecy has come true. She left your family instructions that you choose to ignore.”
I paled. “Who says she was never wrong?”
“It’s known. Her chronicles about the wizarding world—all completely accurate. I understand that those about your family have never been inaccurate either.”
“Maybe not yet. There’s always a chance, and fortune favors the brave,” I mumbled, Bryn’s words tumbling out unintentionally.
“Sometimes. At others, fortune finishes the fool.”
“I thought you wanted me to be with Bryn? To be bet—bait—to lure him to Engle—England?” My tongue felt slippery. I smacked it against the roof of my mouth. Something was definitely wrong. Had a drop of the potion dripped into my cup? It shouldn’t have; I hadn’t reached over it with the vial.
“Mmm.” He smiled, his eyes twinkling again. “Yes, there’s a sweet, silly girl. Ignore that which will protect you to win the approval of strangers.” His lids drifted half closed and he forced them back up. “Unimpressive.”
“I’m not trying to win your approval.” My chest tightened. I needed to keep my mouth shut and I wanted to, but suppressing my words was like trickling acid down my throat. It burned until I couldn’t stand it. “Bryn risked everything for me. Plus, he’s ten flavors of amazing and more delicious than wedding cake. So no, I don’t want to believe that Bryn’s bad for me. I won’t until I see some proof.”
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