by Morgana Best
I shook my head. “No. I didn’t even know of her existence until that night that we played Clue.” I still had the uneasy impression that the detective didn’t believe me.
“Have you ever been to Mexico?”
“Mexico?” I parroted. Why would he ask such a thing? What did Mexico have to do with anything? Had Sue been to Mexico recently?
“Ms. Spelled, please answer the question.”
“Sorry. No, I’ve never been to Mexico. Why do you ask?”
He ignored my question, but then proceeded to ask me the same questions about three more times. I found it extremely irritating, and I wondered if innocent people had actually confessed to crimes just because they were worn down by the incessantly repeated questions.
It was with some relief when I saw Detective Marsters finally poke his head around the door. “Please come with me,” he said. When I was back in the living room with Camino, he said, “I regret to inform you both that Sue Beckett’s death was not an accident.”
“Murder?” Camino asked coolly. She gave no sign that she already knew the fact. “Then she was poisoned?”
Detective Marsters swung his head to face her. “Why would you say that?” he asked.
“Well, surely it’s obvious,” Camino said. “I don’t know any other murder weapons besides guns, knives, or something else that looks obvious. Plus the fact that we didn’t know she was murdered at the time and thought it was a stroke or a heart attack means it was poison. Is that right?”
Detective Marsters pursed his lips. “I can neither confirm nor deny the matter,” he said. “We might have to ask you more questions later. We’ll be questioning everyone who was present that night. That’s all for now. Thank you for your assistance, ladies.”
The two detectives made a beeline for the front door. When they were safely out of earshot, Camino took me by my arm. “The spell worked quickly,” she said, but her tone was grim. “They now know that Sue was murdered, and poisoned at that.”
“Yes, but by whom?” I asked her. “I know you say Madison didn’t do it, but she had the opportunity, and if you don’t mind me saying say so, she also had the motive.”
“But we would have seen Madison put something into Sue’s food or drink,” Camino protested.
I shook my head. “No, not if she was clever about it. Some of us went to the bathroom, while some of us went to the kitchen, and mostly we were concentrating on the game. We weren’t looking to see if someone slipped something into someone’s food or drink.”
Camino walked over to a hideous, bulky floral armchair and sank into it. It squeaked in protest. I shot a look at the cuckoo clock looming over her. It was already past opening time, but Thyme always opened the cake store on Monday mornings. That clock would be a good murder weapon, I thought, looking at the enormous, carved deer antlers jutting out from the top of the wooden monstrosity. I wouldn’t want to be sitting under it in an earthquake.
Camino rubbed her temples with both hands. “I’m sure Madison didn’t do it,” she said wearily. “I just know she didn’t. It must be someone else.” She paused. “We have to figure out who it was. Anyway, we’d better call the others and tell them that the detectives are on their way to question them.”
“Good idea. I’ll call Thyme, if you’d like to call Ruprecht.” I headed for the door. I’d left my phone at home and wanted to warn Thyme as soon as possible.
I was about to hop over the low hedge that ran between our houses, when I saw Alder’s car out on the street. What was he doing here? The day was certainly taking a strange twist.
I hurried out to his car just as he was starting the engine. I tapped on his window and he jumped. I walked around to the driver’s side and he lowered his window. “Were you looking for me?”
“Yes,” he said. “I went to your house and knocked on your door.”
“I was next door at Camino’s,” I said. “Oh, did anything happen when you knocked on my front door? Did you feel strange?” I normally wouldn’t have said such a thing, but I was critically caffeine deficient. In fact, I had usually had my third cup by this time, so I expected a caffeine-deprivation headache was on its way.
Alder appeared to be puzzled. “What do you mean?”
I shook my head. “Never mind.” I had forgotten that my house liked Alder. It had never shown the slightest inclination to do anything horrible to him, unlike what it had done to several of my other guests, both invited and uninvited. That is one of the reasons I felt I could trust Alder. The house had always showed good judgment in the past—well, as far as people went. Its judgment in television shows was a whole other thing.
“I just stopped by to see if you were okay. I was worried when I heard that it was murder.”
“So you already know it was murder.” I said it as a statement rather than a question.
“Yes, with being a private detective, I soon find out that sort of thing,” he said. “And since it was murder and you were present when it happened, I just wanted to come by and ask you to be careful.”
“I’m sure whoever it is isn’t after me,” I said. “I don’t think the rest of us are in any danger.”
Alder frowned. “I think you should increase your protection, anyway.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant. “My house has very good security.”
Alder shook his head. “I mean your own spiritual protection.” He winked at me and then drove off.
I stood on the street for a moment looking after him. What did he mean by spiritual protection? As his parents had been vehemently opposed to witchcraft, talking about spiritual matters was the last thing I expected from him. Sure, he always said he wasn’t like his parents, but still, telling someone to increase their spiritual protection was an unusual thing to say.
On the other hand, Alder had been the one to tell me that I was a Dark Witch. Did Alder know more about witchcraft than he was letting on?
Chapter 9
I also wanted to tell Thyme that I was running late for the shop. The detectives had kept me much longer than I had realized. I hurried through my front door and nearly tripped over Hawthorn and Willow.
I rushed down to the kitchen and emptied food into their bowls and then called Thyme. She didn’t answer, so I wondered if the detectives were already there—or perhaps she had a customer. I left a message, and then hurried to take a quick shower.
When I got out of the shower, my phone’s screen showed that I had three missed calls, one from Thyme, one from Ruprecht, and one from Camino. Just as I reached for the phone to call Thyme back, she called me. “Amelia, can we close the shop for the morning, please? Ruprecht wants us all to meet and talk about what the detectives said.”
I set the phone to Loud so I could get dressed while speaking. “Sure. You can all come here if you like. We don’t get many customers on Monday mornings, anyway.”
I raced around the house trying to tidy up. Of course, Willow and Hawthorn thought the broom was some sort of toy and kept pouncing on it. When I swept dust into a pile, the cats slid along the floor and scattered it. I managed to round them up and put them in the hallway, hurriedly shutting the door.
I stacked the cushions to make them look nice, and then dusted here and there. When I tried to get out into the hallway, the door would not open. Right then, the TV came on. Jamie Oliver was on the screen.
“No,” I said to the house. “I don’t have time for this! The others will be here any minute.”
The house turned up the volume by way of response.
I sighed, and tried the door again. It did not budge. I had no other option than to sit down and watch Jamie Oliver give instructions on how to make pesto.
“I can do that already,” I said to the house. “It doesn’t involve baking.”
No reply.
Minutes later, there was a knock on the front door, and the living room door flung open.
“Thank goodness you’re here!” I said to a surprised Thyme.
Thyme bent down to pat
Willow. “What happened?”
“Nothing, but the house locked me in the room with the TV and made me watch Jamie Oliver.”
Thyme burst out laughing. I simply glared at her. I looked past her down the path to see Ruprecht and Mint in my yard, not heading to my front door, but rather hurrying over in the direction of Camino’s house.
I walked onto the porch to see Camino stuck in the hedge between our houses. She was still wearing the emu onesie, but mercifully the hood was off. Ruprecht and Mint managed to extract her from the hedge without too much trouble, and led her to my house.
“Are you all right, Camino?” I asked her.
Camino staggered in the door, clutching the emu hoodie and muttering to herself. She shook her head. “No, not after the cops gave me the third degree. I bet they think that I did it.”
“Surely not,” Ruprecht said, and we all murmured our agreement.
“Well, come inside,” I said. “I’ll make us a nice cup of tea, and some breakfast.” I was worried about Camino. Her face was white and she was not acting herself. Her next words only confirmed my concern.
“I couldn’t eat a thing,” she said. She followed Ruprecht into the living room. I continued down the hallway to the kitchen, but once again, a closed door faced me.
I looked behind me at Thyme. “The house is driving me nuts,” I said. “I wish it would stop. It’s afraid of my baking.”
“Aren’t we all?” Thyme said, quickly followed by, “Sorry, Amelia. Have you been baking lately?”
I shook my head. “No, I haven’t. I did try the other day, but the house turned off the electricity; that’s why I had to make those No Bake Cakes. Now it’s forcing me to watch the cooking channel.”
Thyme frowned. “Perhaps the house has a premonition.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Do you think the house has a premonition that I’m going to start a fire with my baking?”
Thyme chuckled. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.” She addressed the house. “Please let us into the kitchen. I promise I won’t let Amelia bake anything. I promise I’ll make breakfast.” With that, the door opened in front of us. Thyme took me by the shoulders and turned me around. “Amelia, why don’t you go and ask people what they’d like for breakfast? I’ll make it, of course. See if you can convince Camino to eat something. She certainly looks like she’s lost weight in the last couple of days.”
I had to agree.
Soon we were all sitting around my dining table, tucking into a hearty breakfast of toast, grilled tomatoes, and eggs—and none of it was burned. That, of course, had everything to do with Thyme and nothing to do with me. Camino was nibbling on a bit of toast, much to my relief.
Ruprecht set down his coffee cup. “Now, what did the police tell everyone? That is to say, what do we know? Concrete facts only, please.”
I paused with my fork half way to my mouth. “Well, not much really. They weren’t very forthcoming with me. Did they tell anyone else anything much?” Everyone shook their heads. I pushed on. “They did ask me if I’d been to Mexico recently.”
“They asked me, too,” Camino said.
Thyme and Ruprecht both said the same thing, and Mint nodded in agreement.
I scratched my head. “What do you make of that?” I asked.
“Did they happen to tell you that Sue was poisoned?” Ruprecht asked.
We all shook our heads. “Where are you going with this, Ruprecht?” I asked him. I thought if he had a long white beard he would look exactly like Dumbledore—the first Dumbledore—in the movies.
“Well, although they didn’t tell us that Sue was poisoned,” Ruprecht said slowly, “it’s obvious that she was. I can only assume that the poison can easily be procured in Mexico and not in Australia. Why else would they ask us if someone had been to Mexico recently?”
I tried to gather my thoughts into some sort of order. “What if they had information that she met someone, perhaps someone who threatened her, in Mexico?” I looked around at a sea of blank faces.
“I think Ruprecht is right,” Camino said. “I think the poison must only be able to be procured in Mexico. That makes the most sense.”
I had to agree. Television detective shows always said that the simplest solution was usually the right one. “Then where do we go from here?” I asked Ruprecht.
“Amelia, go and get your laptop,” he said. “We’ll google to see what poisons are available more freely in Mexico.”
“And crosscheck against poisons that don’t work immediately. You know, ones that take a few hours to work,” Thyme added.
Mint butted in. “Days or weeks, even.”
I went to my bedroom to get my laptop. I was surprised that Ruprecht was now showing an interest in the case and no longer telling us to leave it to the police. I fervently hoped that the reason wasn’t that he was worried that Camino might now be the cops’ Number One Suspect.
Half an hour of googling later, we had not found a single thing to help. “Perhaps Amelia was right,” Ruprecht said with a sigh. “Perhaps the connection with Mexico isn’t poison after all.”
I shrugged. “It was just a thought. I don’t really have an opinion either way,” I said. “Would anyone like more tea or coffee?”
When I returned with fresh tea and coffee, everyone looked grim. Even the cats were motionless. The scent of caffeine wafting in the air did nothing to perk us up, no pun intended. “I wonder why the cops didn’t tell us what the poison was?” Thyme asked, but nobody answered. We all just stared into the dark pools of our cups.
“If we don’t know what the poison was, then we have no idea how long it takes to work, and that means that we can’t get a good lead on the suspects. Anyway, let’s look at them again,” Camino said. “Madison—mind you, I’m sure it’s not her—and Sue’s sister, Barbara, who inherits everything, and who else?”
“What about Madison’s husband, Bob?” I said.
“Bob?” was the collective echo.
I pushed on. “What if Sue was, well, harassing him to leave Madison, and he thought that murdering her was the only way to get rid of her?”
Camino shook her head. “It’s a bit extreme, surely?”
“We shall add Madison and Bob to the list, nonetheless,” Ruprecht said firmly. “So who do we have now? Madison, Bob, and Barbara. Is that all?”
Camino dabbed at her eyes. I had no idea why I said it then; whether it was to distract Camino or not, I will probably never know. It was as if I were standing at a distance, hearing the words tumble out of my mouth. “So, I hear that I’m a Dark Witch?”
Chapter 10
Everyone’s jaws dropped. Thyme jumped to her feet, knocking a little bit of egg onto the floor. Willow and Hawthorn pranced over to it to claim it, and then swatted at each other, scratching Thyme’s leg in the process. She yowled and jumped away.
Ruprecht froze. “How did you find out?” he asked.
Thyme gasped repeatedly. Mint shut her mouth and her hands flew to her cheeks, but she didn’t say another word. Camino’s mouth opened and shut. She looked like a goldfish. It would have been funny, but the only feelings I had at that time were hurt and betrayal.
“Why didn’t you tell me?’ I asked them.
Ruprecht countered with yet another question. “Who told you?”
“Well, is it true?” My tone was defiant. Thyme reached down to pick up the remains of the egg on the floor, but I glared at her when she straightened up.
“I suppose I can’t take this out to the trash now?” she said hopefully.
I shook my head. “Why did you keep it from me?” I asked.
“Now, Amelia,” Ruprecht began in a placating tone, “we weren’t trying to deceive you. Not at all. You were so shocked when you found out that you were a witch, and you were horrified when you found out that your house could do, um, stuff…”
I interrupted him. “I thought I took it all pretty well.” I realized I was pouting, but I didn’t care.
Ruprecht shrugged. “It’s my fault. I told the others not to tell you. We were going to tell you soon, but there was a lot going on, what with the two murders in town.”
“Three murders,” Camino said.
Ruprecht nodded. “Precisely. Anyway, who told you?”
“Alder Vervain,” I said.
There was a collective gasp. Ruprecht was the first to recover. “How did he know?” he said, more to himself than anything.
I remained silent.
“I knew he couldn’t be trusted,” Thyme said grimly.
“Look, he didn’t do anything wrong,” I said. “At least he told me. How do you think I felt when I found that out, with all of you keeping it from me?”
Ruprecht walked over to lay his hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, Amelia, but I judged it for the best. I didn’t want you to have too much on your shoulders all at once. Can you blame me?’
I thought about it for a moment, “No, I suppose not,” I said, and with that, all my feelings of resentment evaporated. “But are you keeping anything else from me?” I shot him a penetrating look.
Ruprecht met my gaze. “No, truly.”
I nodded, relieved. “And what exactly is a Dark Witch? I’m not like a zombie or Maleficent or anything, am I?”
Mint chuckled. Thyme’s face was still pale. Camino chewed her bottom lip. Ruprecht sighed and gestured to the table. “Sit down, Amelia, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
I did as he said.
Ruprecht, too, sat down. “A Dark Witch is a witch born with strong powers. Now we have told you before that some people who practice witchcraft have no innate talent at all, whereas others have various talents. For example, some could be psychic or even clairvoyant mediums. I suppose you could say that most witches fall into this category. Yet it is focus that makes a good witch. Even someone who possesses no natural abilities but who is able to focus strongly will be able to manifest and change their reality. I’m sure we’ve told you this before, Amelia.”
I nodded, wondering where Ruprecht was going with all this.
Ruprecht cleared his throat. “To give an example: say someone wants to do a spell to make a nasty neighbor leave town. If the witch has strong focus and concentrates hard on their spell, then their focus will bring about the desired results. The witch does not need special abilities such as being psychic or clairvoyant. Are you following me?”
