As soon as the going-to-work rush ended, I called Tessa. She was in her morning lull also, and she shared my fears. After a minute of talk, we decided that the Gallaghers had to be involved, as they were the detectives. If the only solution to the town’s argument was a solution, we needed to meet. I had Tessa make the phone call, as she seemed happy to do. Also, Tessa had a way of insisting on what she wanted to do. Most of the time, it was easiest to agree. Within minutes, we had all agreed to meet at the Goodsprings Brewery after work. I wasn’t at all sure the beer would help our thinking, but it would certainly put a nice buzz on the end of the day.
I arrived first and claimed a table at the back of the room. While the brewery wasn’t crowded, being away from hungry ears seemed like a good idea. My first Winter-Mist ale hadn’t arrived before Tessa sat down. She looked radiant, and I wondered if she was getting the flu. Sometimes, people looked particularly chipper right before illness grabbed them.
“So,” Tessa said. “Have you solved the murder yet?”
“Sure,” I said. “Colonel Mustard did it in the billiards room with the wrench.”
She laughed. “I wish it were that easy.”
“In some sense, it is. I mean, you revert back to means, motive, and opportunity. If you get those items correct, you find the killer.”
“We’re working on that,” Ada Gallagher said as she and Ethan sat.
“Unfortunately, no one appears to have the opportunity,” Ethan added.
“Means is easy,” Ada said. “The puncture wound. Motive? Well, we’re not sure about that, as Linda Downs made more than a few enemies in her brief time here. Perhaps, not the kind that would lead to murder, but who knows, people kill for strange reasons. We had a case where a wife bashed her husband with a frying pan because he forgot to take off his shoes at the back door.”
“Ouch,” Tessa said. “That sounds like quite a penalty for some muddy tracks.”
“It does, but it goes to motive,” Ethan said. “While we can find means and motive, it’s opportunity that raises the bar. No one entered that room after Linda. No one came out. It’s like one of those locked-room mysteries people used to write. Of course, this isn’t some story. This is a real case. We can’t have a killer unless we establish opportunity.”
Carey Welles, Genevive’s father brought our drinks. He told us that Genevive wasn’t feeling all that good, so he sent her home. Carey owned the brewery, and his hearty laugh and good nature carried over into his wares. The ale always tasted good, but this ale tasted better than usual. While I sometimes thought a bit of magic would help the ale, I didn’t think this batch needed anything but thirsty drinkers. While we sipped, we ran over the evidence again. And every time we did, we ran into the same problem. How did the killer get into the bedroom without being seen on the video?
“Perhaps the video was tampered with,” Tessa offered.
“We thought of that,” Ada said. “There are no gaps in the time stamp. If a part had been deleted, the time stamp would have jumped.”
“And there really was no time to tamper with the recording. You discovered the body shortly after she died. Someone might have doctored the recording before that night by changing the date stamp, but how could they know that the three of you would wander into the bedroom?”
“We didn’t know we were going in,” I said. “So, we’re back to square one.”
“Not if you consider magic,” Tessa said.
We all stared.
“You’re not going to buy the ghost story, are you?” Ada asked.
“Or the vampire story?” Ethan added.
No one spoke as our second glasses arrived. We knew enough to be discreet with our discussions.
“Bear with me,” Tessa said. “I, don’t for a minute, believe Amelia’s ghost returned to put an end to Linda Downs. As far as I know, ghosts don’t work that way. Besides, no one ever reported seeing Amelia’s ghost in the manor. And knowing Amelia, she wouldn’t lie low. She’d be leading the charge.”
“Okay,” I said. “Then, it’s the vampire theory?”
“Sounds rather stupid also, but we know there are vampires in the world.”
“We do?” Ada asked.
“Before you came to Goodsprings, did you believe in witches?” Tessa asked.
Ada looked at Ethan, who shrugged.
“Or magic?” I added.
“So, let’s review what we know about Mr. Bluth.”
“Why Mr. Bluth?” Ethan asked.
“Because, Tessa and I would have discovered a vampire if it were living here,” I said. “But Mr. Bluth is new in town.”
“Mr. Bluth is very pale,” Tessa said.
“And speaks in an old-fashioned way,” I added.
“And no one has ever seen him in daylight,” Tessa said.
“I’ve never seen him in front of a mirror, so, we don’t know about that particular detail, but on the surface, he could be a vampire.”
“Except we don’t have any bloodless bodies lying around. No animals either. If he’s a vampire, what is he living on?”
“There are other ways to get blood,” I offered. “I’m guessing blood banks will sell any blood that passes its shelf date.”
“We’ll check into that,” Ada said.
“And we’ll look into Mr. Bluth,” I said.
“We will?” Tessa asked.
“If the murder involves magic or vampires, who better to investigate?”
“You’re right,” Tessa said. “I'm not sure what to do with a vampire if we find one though.”
“Two things,” Ethan said. “One, you must stay in touch with us. No holding back information, even if you don’t think it’s important.”
“Got it,” Tessa said.
“Two, and more important. We’re dealing with a murderer. I doubt a second murder would bother him or her very much. So, you must be exceedingly careful.”
Before we could agree, Phineas pulled up a chair, which was odd for Phineas, since I couldn’t remember seeing him in the brewery before. Odder, he was without his rooster.
“Chuckles needs his beauty sleep,” Phineas said as he sat. “I need some ‘me’ time.”
Phineas laughed, and we joined in, simply to accommodate him.
“So,” Phineas said. “City detectives meeting with some ladies known for their murder solving abilities. I’d say this is a problem-solving meeting. And you’re in luck, as I have my own theories.”
“Such as?” Ada asked.
“Suicide,” Phineas pronounced without a moment’s hesitation. “That seems as plain as day.”
“Phineas, we appreciate your ideas, but there are a few problems,” I said. “One, there was no weapon found. If she had killed herself, the weapon would still be there. Two, there was no note. Not that a note is mandatory. Three, she didn’t seem despondent. Sick, yes, despondent, no. I don’t believe anyone thought she was suicidal.”
“That’s just my first idea,” Phineas said. “And I admit, it’s a bit far-fetched. But if that’s off the table, then, the only other explanation is that the murderer was already in the room when she went in.” He beamed with pride.
“Except,” Tessa said. “He never came out. Once we discovered the body, someone was in the room the entire time.”
“He went back into hiding,” Phineas said.
“We checked,” Ethan said. “In fact, we searched the room and bathroom thoroughly. No one was hiding. And before you raise another objection, we viewed the video tape for the entire day. No one went in or out of that room.”
Phineas laughed. “I was just warming up. Have any of you heard of teleportation?”
Tessa rolled her eyes, and I laughed, and the detectives smiled without mirth. Phineas was on a roll, and we were not going to escape his madcap theories.
I managed to ride my bike home, as the sun had melted most of the snow. The moon shone, but I didn’t believe it would last the night. I assumed Genevive was avoiding me because she couldn’t cancel
the snow spell. And luckily, other news had displaced the strange phenomenon occurring over Goodsprings, Georgia. A fast news cycle had become a blessing. Not as big a blessing as sleep, but a blessing.
The morning greeted me with a surprise, although it wasn’t a lack of snow. The fresh coat met me like an old friend. And it wasn’t David’s latest stab at a viable smoothie, although his stab was placed in my hand as I arrived at the shop. No, the surprise came from Tessa who called to tell me that Allie and Genevive were the victims of the flu. They were holed up in Tessa’s apartment, and they were miserable. Tessa suggested that they might benefit from a special soup.
Tessa had all the subtlety of a hammer.
Creating a magical soup was not as easy as Tessa supposed. There was something about food that caused unpredicted side effects. I thought it had something to do with the makeup of food. While all apples looked alike, they were indeed different in small ways, and those small ways could become large problems without care. It was like a snowball rolling down a hill. If not controlled, it would turn into a snow boulder.
While David waited on our customers, I whispered the spells that would transform ordinary chicken noodle soup (with a variety of vegetables) into something that would help the girls get over the flu. While the magic wasn’t an exact science, I was sure it would work.
“That smells heavenly.”
I turned, and Phineas stood on the other side of the counter. “Thank you,” I said. “But it’s not on the menu. I have some sick girls to attend to.”
“I surmised as much. Tell them they are indeed lucky to have an ‘aunt-Sam’ around.”
“I’ll remind them,” I said as I poured the soup into a tureen. “And they might remember for a day or two.”
Phineas laughed, and Chuckles clucked, a different sound for the rooster, who liked to crow. I think the snow had robbed Chuckles of his jovial crowing mood. I think it had all of us.
I took one step into Tessa’s apartment and stopped cold. “What have you been doing?” I asked.
Allie was laid out on the couch, and Genevive was wrapped in blankets on the carpet, and both looked as if they were dying. They weren’t, but they looked that way. Misery had come to visit, and they had consumed a double helping. But as sick as they looked, the apartment looked worse.
The place was a mishmash of scorch marks, used tissues, and ice formations, which meant only one thing, the girls were having trouble controlling their magic. Illness often did that to novice witches. When the body weakened, the mind weakened. When the mind weakened, the magic became wild. I set the tureen on a burner and told them to come to the table.
“Your decorating leaves much to be desired,” I said.
Allie looked around, as if she didn’t recognize her handywork. “I’m so sorry, Aunt-Sam. I guess I wasn’t careful about things.”
“Me either,” Genevive said. “My head spins every now and then, and when it does...”
“I know,” I said. “Ice-scapes. But don’t worry. This happens even to the best witches if they get sick enough. Be thankful no one was here to watch.”
I filled two bowls with very hot soup and placed the bowls in front of them.
“Oh, I don’t think I can eat a bite,” Genevive said.
“Me either,” Allie added.
“Just sniff,” I told them. “Just sniff.”
They sniffed once, twice, and then, picked up their spoons. That was the nature of the soup. It was irresistible. They immediately began to eat.
“Okay,” I said. “Here’s a general rule about magic and spells. Don’t cast a spell before you learn how to undo it.”
“Tell me about it,” Genevive said.
“So, I’m going to teach you two simple spells that almost always work for accidental magic. The sort of magic we have here. You can try them against more powerful, specific spells, but they probably won’t work. As in most things, the more power put into a spell, the more power it takes to undo it.”
“We understand,” Allie said.
It took five minutes to teach them the spells. It took about the same amount of time for the soup to help them feel better. I watched as they undid their misplaced magic. Soon, the apartment looked even better than normal. And that was when they began to talk.
“We figured it out,” Allie said. “We know who the killer is.”
Chapter 11
“While you were sick?” I asked. “Perhaps delirious. “
“It’s Mr. Bluth,” Genevive said.
“And you know this how?” I asked.
“He’s a vampire,” Allie said.
“I’ve heard that before. What makes you so sure?”
Both girls produced their phones.
“We took about a million pics,” Allie said. “And while we’re sure we took pics of Mr. Bluth, he doesn’t appear in any of them.”
They showed me their photo albums, and they were correct. Mr. Bluth did not appear in a single photo, which seemed impossible, considering where they took the pics. He should have been in a dozen pics, easy.
“It could still be coincidence,” I said. “He merely moved before you took the picture.”
“No way,” Allie said. “I made certain.”
“Me too,” Genevive said. “It seemed like the thing to do.”
“I would love to sit and chat with you about it,” I said, “but some of us have to work. There’s more soup on the stove.”
“We can’t thank you enough,” Allie said. “And we’ll be careful with the magic.”
“I’m sure you will.”
As I walked back to the shop, I considered the girls’ “proof” that Mr. Bluth was a vampire. I couldn’t be sure one way or another, but I agreed with the girls. If Mr. Bluth didn’t show up in pictures, he wouldn’t show up on a video either. Not proof but certainly enough for further investigation. But I wasn’t about to start off on my own. This was a job for the coven.
While the grill was the natural place for us to meet, I proposed they come to Happy Blendings after closing time, which was slightly before the grill generally shut down. I didn’t tell them what the topic was. They already knew. Mara arrived first, and she exhibited her old energy, exactly what I had hoped to see. She accepted the basil, mushroom, peach, and coconut milk smoothie with a smile. She knew the smoothie aided brain function, and we needed all the ideas we could muster. Tessa arrived with slightly less anger than usual. I didn’t know if that was good or bad. She said she had just chatted with the Gallaghers, who had stopped for a bite.
“Okay,” Tessa said, with her usual speed. “What’s up?”
“We need to find out more about Mr. Bluth,” I began. Then, I told them about the girls and their phones and the absence of Mr. Bluth in their pics.
“That doesn’t mean much,” Mara said. “They simply pointed the wrong way.”
“That would explain it,” Tessa said, “but something tells me Samantha doesn’t quite agree.”
“I do agree,” I said. “But I find it unlikely that he could avoid all the photos they took. I mean, entirely avoid the pics. No back of the head here, no profile there, no backside going out the door. That seems beyond the pale.”
“Well, we certainly can’t accuse him of anything because he didn’t show up on their phones.” Mara said.
“Sam knows that,” Tessa said. “So, I’m guessing there’s another plan.”
I smiled. “I think we need to do a bit of sleuthing where Mr. Bluth is concerned.”
“And we do this how?” Tessa asked.
“I know,” Mara said. “We do a stake out.”
Tessa and I both stared at Mara.
“Oh, not a real stake out,” Mara said. “A magical stake out.”
“Tessa and I don’t have time to burn,” I said. “And I don’t know a spell that will show us what Mr. Bluth is doing every hour of the day and night.”
“Exactly,” Mara said. “That’s why I’m going to use Windshape.”
“Wind shape?�
� Tessa asked. “What’s that?”
“Windshape, one word,” Mara said. “They taught it to me in Iceland. It makes me invisible.”
Tessa and I both gaped. “You can hear people a mile away, and now, you can sneak up on them?” Tessa asked.
“I could if I wanted. But I would never do that,” Mara said. “You know how discreet I am about listening.”
We did know. Mara wasn’t one to abuse her powers.
“If I understand you,” I said. “You’re proposing to turn yourself invisible and snoop in the manor, correct?”
Mara nodded. “And I’ll be on the phone with you two the entire time. I’m not going in there without some back up.”
We discussed possible methods of carrying out our snooping mission, eventually adopting one that balanced safety with risk. The question became timing. We thought darkness would be too risky, as vampires were most active then. Since Tessa and I ran businesses, we could not afford to be away all day. After all, we weren’t getting paid to snoop.
“But you don’t have to be away,” Mara reminded us. “You simply have to be by the phone.”
We talked a bit longer and decided Mara would invade the manor the next morning, early, so that Tessa and I could be on the phone call together. Tessa and I would meet at the Grill, since David could handle Happy Blendings without me for a while. We hoped that Hughes wouldn’t be active either. Not that he could see Mara, but he might notice something. We wished to avoid that. So, having coordinated, we were ready.
“I hope it doesn’t snow tonight,” Mara said.
I laughed. Snow seemed to be a permanent condition.
That night, before I went to bed, I tried to think of all the ways our plan could go wrong. I came up with far too many. Yet, I wasn’t willing to call off the invasion of the manor. The disagreement over the murder still raged. It would be better for everyone in Goodsprings to have an answer. I wasn’t convinced that Mara could provide that answer, but I hoped she would point us toward the right path.
A Drop in the Potion Page 7
