“Did you come out when you heard the screams?”
“No, I’m not really bothered by those things,” she said.
“Those things?” mouthed Bart to me.
“You weren’t concerned at all that someone was screaming not that far away from your door?”
“Why would I be?” she asked, reaching in the bag for another handful of candy. “No reason for anyone to try and attack me.”
“No reason to attack you? But you’re a lecturer. Don’t people want your spot?”
“Ha!” she laughed, nearly chocking on her candy. “Who would want that? The conference doesn’t have the recognition it used to have. If someone wanted my spot, all they’d have to do is ask and I’d give it up. I’ve just been teaching because no one else wants to do it, and I’m older than most.”
“That’s odd, I know someone that wants to be a lecturer,” I mumbled. “I assumed a lot of people still wanted to.”
“Not anymore. There’s only one person I know of that wants a lecturer spot, and she’s already been promised one in the next couple of years.”
“Really?” I asked. “Who’s that?”
“Melina Edwards,” she said. Bart glanced up at me but I made no reaction. When she said there was just one person, I assumed it must’ve been my mom. I just wanted to see if there was anyone else. “She’s kind of a pain to teach, but she means well. At least, I think she does.”
“How is she a pain to teach?” I asked.
“Well, she’s always coming in and out of the class, which is really distracting. I understand the topic isn’t the most interesting thing in the world, but either sit down or just don’t come in at all.”
“She kept leaving your class?” I asked, taking a step forward.
“Mmhmm,” mumbled Darla, shoveling in another clump of candy. She gulped it down, adding, “She showed up late, then excused herself for a few minutes towards the end of class. She came back in right before the chimes went, and then wanted to stay after for me to explain the whole class to her. Before I could tell her off, there was that scream, so she ran away.”
“That’s odd,” I said. “She said she was in your class the whole time, and even encouraged me to come talk to you about it.”
“That’s gutsy,” she said. “I don’t have a dog in this fight, and I’m not about to lie for someone. Especially someone that has the audacity to skip out of my class and then ask me to teach her it all again.”
“When she came back, did she have anything strange on her?” asked Bart.
“Or did she throw anything away?” I added. “Like a small potion container?”
“I wasn’t watching her intently, to be honest,” she shrugged. “It’s possible she had something, but I didn’t see it.”
I walked over to the trash can to inspect it. Everything in there was a mixture of paper and used Styrofoam coffee cups. If my mom disposed of something deadly in there, it sure didn’t show.
“It would make sense for her to hold on to the murder weapon if she had it,” advised Bart. “You might not like your mom, but she’s not an idiot. If she was the killer, she would’ve known people would investigate Margot’s death. It would be smarter to hold onto it and dispose of any evidence at a later time, when she was sure no one could find it.”
“You’re probably right,” I sighed. I didn’t particularly want to begin diving into all the trash bins anyway.
I glanced down at my phone as it buzzed, where I saw I had a text from an unknown number. It read:
Meet me by your car, or we’ll be late to torture your boyfriend. - Melina
“I nearly forgot we had to go meet Drake,” I moaned, putting my phone back in my pocket. “My mom’s waiting by the car.”
“How did she find your car?” asked Bart.
“Probably Allen,” I shrugged. “Maybe she put a tracking spell on it or something. It wouldn’t surprise me.”
“Can I get back to my special now?” asked Darla.
“Yes, thank you for your help Darla,” I smiled. Darla turned away without a word and stared back down at her laptop. For it being such a funny comedy special, she sure wasn’t showing it.
Bart and I made for the secret garage. My mind was racing with the different possibilities. Either my mom or Darla was lying, and my money was on it being my mom. I could question her before we got to the restaurant, but what if she was the murderer? Maybe she would try to take Drake hostage and escape.
I shook my head as we entered the garage. No, she wouldn’t run away. She still wanted to be a lecturer, and everyone thought that Samantha did it. Word had probably gotten around to her by now that Judy had caught the killer, and she probably thought she was home free. I could wait until after dinner, and confront her on the car ride back. If she would try anything funny, then it would be when Drake was safe.
We walked back to my car, where my mom stood next to it, tapping her foot and glancing at her phone.
“We’re going to be late,” she said. “Maybe you don’t care very much about this guy after all.”
“Take it easy, Mom,” I said, unlocking the doors and opening up the driver side. “We’ll be fine.”
“You’ve already shown you don’t mind being late,” she commented.
I put a smile on and got into the car. Keep your cool, Zoey, keep your cool.
“Would you be a doll and get the door for me?” she asked, waiting until I sat down in my seat.
My eye twitched as I walked around to the other side and opened the door for her.
“Thank you, sweetie,” she smiled, taking her time to get in.
“Not a problem,” I said through clinched teeth. “Now would you be a doll and stop lying to your daughter?”
Well, there went the plan to not confront her until after dinner.
“Lying to my daughter?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. I mean, I’ve lied to you quite a bit through life, so I’m not sure which particular one you’re upset about.”
“Wow,” marveled Bart. I didn’t know anything about a familiar’s parents or how the worked, but my mom openly admitting to lying to me about a lot seemed to impress even him.
“I talked to Darla,” I said. “The transmutation lecturer. She said you weren’t in the class the whole time after all.”
“Huh, you actually talked to her,” said my mom, a surprised look on her face.
“Of course I did. And now, you’re going to tell me the truth,” I said, slamming her door shut.
Chapter 9
I pulled out of the garage and flew down the beaten road, flying between the trees.
“Maybe slow down a little, sweetie,” said my mom. I could detect just a hint of fear in her voice as I picked up speed.
“You are going pretty fast,” said Bart from the back seat.
“Darla said you weren’t in the class the whole time,” I said, not slowing down at all. If she was worried, maybe my mom would be more open to telling the truth.
“I may have stepped out once or twice,” she admitted. “Honestly, I don’t see why-Watch out!”
I jerked the wheel, keeping the car from colliding into a tree that was bent over the side of the road.
“Did you kill Margot to increase attention on the conference?” I demanded.
“What? That’s preposterous.”
“Margot seemed to think that people would be more interested in attending if it was dangerous again. She said the conference of old attracted witches from all over the world.”
“Well, she was an idiot, then,” scoffed my mom. “I’ve heard some of the younger witches thinking the conference would be better if it went back to how it was, but that’s because they didn’t attend the conference during those dark times. I like a little excitement as much as the next girl, but it was getting out of hand. Towards the end of those times, the conference basically guaranteed a half dozen deaths, if not more! Why would someone actually want to go to a deadli
er event?”
“That was my initial thought, too,” I conceded. “Still, just because I think it’s weird, doesn’t mean others might not believe it.”
“Why are you accusing me, anyway? I’ve heard that Samantha was caught, and was the one that killed Margot after all.”
“It couldn’t have been Samantha, Mom,” I said, shaking my head as we pulled out onto a main road. “Bart would’ve noticed if I was being put under a mind control potion.”
“Maybe he lied to you,” she shrugged.
“I wouldn’t do that to Zoey,” hissed Bart.
My mom turned around, pointing a finger at Bart. As she went to cast a spell on him, I blanked my mind and said the magic word in my head.
“Hmm?” said my mom, looking down at her finger in surprise.
“I told you not to cast spells on him anymore, Mom,” I said firmly, keeping an eye out for the restaurant Drake picked.
“You counterspelled me?” whispered my mom, her eyes wide.
“Darla told me you’ve already been chosen to become a lecturer soon,” I said, ignoring her. “I could see you convincing Judy to go after Samantha. With one of the lecturers out of the picture, you’d be bumped up immediately. You had everything to gain by Margot being killed and Samantha taking the fall.”
“I didn’t do it, Zoey,” said my mom.
“Then why weren’t you in class?” I asked, pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant. Burger World? Really Drake?
“I was trying to… borrow… a friend’s Alchymist stone, if you really must know,” blushed my mom.
“Huh?” I asked.
“The class was on the legal uses of it, but I haven’t actually used one before,” she said, growing redder. I hadn’t heard of the stone before today, but the fact that my mom was embarrassed by this showed how little I really knew about the paranormal world, regardless of how much I had grown in it. “Eleanor usually has one, but when I snuck into her office to practice with it, I couldn’t find it.”
I let out a sigh of relief. This was apparently something really embarrassing for my mom, so for her to admit to it must have meant she wasn’t the killer. If anything, I was surprised she wouldn’t rather be accused of a crime she didn’t commit than admit to something that made her look bad.
Knock. Knock.
My mom, Bart, and I all jumped in surprise as Drake knocked on my window. He held his hands up and took a step back, frightened by our response.
“Drake, you scared us,” I laughed, getting out of the car.
“I’m so sorry!” he said, looking in fear at my mom.
“That’s certainly alright,” she said, getting out of her side as well. She looked around the parking lot and over at Burger World, realizing for the first time where she was. “This is where you wanted to go?”
“Yeah, they’ve got great burgers here,” he smiled. It fell away the longer he watched my mom’s disgusted expression. “We… We could go somewhere else, if you’d like.”
“No, no, this is fine,” she said, walking past him and into the restaurant. Drake shot me a worried look.
“You’re the one that wanted to meet her,” I whispered as we followed after her.
We waited in line for a moment, looking over the menu while Drake tried to make small talk with my mom. She fluctuated between one and two word answers the whole time, not giving him much to work with. We were finally up, saving Drake from having to talk any further.
“Three burgers and three medium fries, please,” smiled Drake, pulling out his wallet.
“How would you like those cooked?” asked the cashier.
“Medium rare, please,” I said.
“Same for me,” nodded Drake.
“Well done,” said my mom.
The cashier paused, hovering his finger over the register, and looked over at my mom. “Ma’am, would you rather I just burn a shoe for you? It’ll taste the same either way.”
“I like well done,” she said again.
“It’s such a waste of a good burger, ma’am,” said the cashier.
My mom snapped her fingers, and suddenly the register started to print out a receipt. The cashier looked down in confusion back and forth between the screen and receipt.
“This can’t be right…” he muttered.
“What’s going on, Bryan?” asked an older employee with a different colored shirt. I assumed he was a manager.
“I didn’t hit the button for well done, but it registered it and then printed out a receipt, saying the food was payed for.”
“Well, then give them the receipt and let them move on,” said the manager. “Sorry for the hold up, folks.”
“I don’t mind paying, though,” insisted Drake, holding his credit card out to the cashier.
“Nonsense,” smiled the manager. “If we messed up, it’s our policy to give you the food for free. Bryan messed up, so it’s yours.”
“That’s very nice of you to try and pay, though,” said my mom, patting Drake on the back and moving to find a table.
“That was a really ethical use of magic,” muttered Bart.
Drake looked at me and shrugged. We followed after my mom and sat down.
After some more small talk, my mom began to open up more with Drake, asking him about his work and what he liked to do. She teased him on some of his answers, but the two were getting along better than I had hoped. Our food finally came, and I decided to see if Drake knew anything that might help me out.
“Drake, this might sound a little weird but… have you ever heard of people turning blue?” I asked.
“Like, depressed?”
“She means a slight tint to their skin, dear,” said my mom.
“That is kind of weird,” he said, thinking it over. “Why do you ask?”
I hesitated, trying to think of an excuse for why I would be asking about it right then.
“We’ve had a mutual friend die,” said my mom. “There appears to be more to it than a simple death, and the person’s body was a slight shade of blue.”
“Was it someone in Twistchapel?” he asked, eyes scanning me to see how I’d respond.
“No, it was somewhere else,” I said truthfully. He looked me over, but nodded and relaxed. It looked like he believed me, and he should have. Crestwood was a completely different town, after all.
“Off the top of my head, I’m not sure why someone would turn blue when they died,” he shrugged. “I could ask around tomorrow at the station and get back to you.”
“It’s a bit more time sensitive than that, I’m afraid,” said my mom, taking a bite from her burger. “Bleh, is this medium-well? I might as well be eating the cow raw.”
Drake and I shared a smile as my mom looked the burger over, inspecting it for any hints that there might be some pink in it.
“I know it’s probably not helpful, but I have heard of people being blue,” said Drake, taking a bite of his own burger.
“You have?” I asked, trying not to seem too eager.
“Two ways, actually,” he nodded.
“Do tell,” implored my mom, grimacing as she took another bite of her burger.
“One I saw in a super interesting documentary, actually,” he said, pausing and glancing over at my mom. “I like to always be learning.”
My mom smiled patronizingly, but it looked like Drake mistook it for actually being impressed. Bart looked over at me and shook his head. Poor Drake.
“It’s about a family out in Kentucky,” continued Drake, smiling now that he believed he had won over my mother. “They have a condition called methemoglobinemia, and everyone in the family is blue.”
“That’s a ridiculously long word,” mutter Bart.
“Doctors like to do that on purpose,” my mom said to him. “It makes them feel fancy.”
Drake gave me a confused look.
“Uh, she talks to herself sometimes,” I whispered, before speaking up again. “That sounds like a great documentary, but I think that particular
method isn’t really going to help us out. I assume they were blue since birth, but this is something that would’ve happened later in life.”
“Right,” he nodded. “The other way I’ve heard of people turning blue is from having too much silver in their system.”
“Silver?” I asked. Why would someone have silver inside of them?
“Some people take small doses of something called colloidal silver, which turns them blue over time,” he explained. “People think it might have some health benefits, although I think I’ve heard it isn’t safe to do.”
“Sounds like that would be over time, too,” sighed my mom. “Another dead end.”
“What if the person had a burst of silver in their system all at once,” I said slowly. An idea was forming in my head as I connected the dots, but I didn’t want it to be true. Still, the possibility was there. “Could they turn slightly blue from that?”
Drake shrugged, taking a bite and chewing as he thought about it. “I mean, I think it would have to be a large amount of silver for that to happen… but sure. Maybe that’s possible.”
I took a big bite out of my burger, processing all the different possibilities. Could it really have been her all along? It was the only thing that made any sense…
“I’m sorry, Drake, I suddenly don’t feel so well,” I said, getting up.
“Oh, do you want me to take you home?” he asked, getting to his feet.
“No, no, I’ll help her,” said my mom. “You sit down and finish the rest of your food.”
Drake hesitated, wanting to help me but also not wanting to argue with my mom.
“Really, I’m okay,” I nodded. “Why don’t you come by my place tomorrow morning? We can talk more then.”
“Alright,” he relented, taking his seat again. “Make sure you take it easy tonight, okay?”
“I’ll do my best,” I said, trying not to laugh at the notion. Things were about to get very uneasy.
My mom and Bart followed me out of the restaurant and towards my car. I pulled out my keys when we got there, tossing them over to my mom.
“You know how to get back?” I asked.
“I can probably figure it out,” said my mom, staring into her hand like she had never seen a key in her life. “Why am I driving, though?”
The Wrong Witch: Twistchapel Cozy Mystery Book 6 Page 6
