Murder & Macarons (A Stella Storm Cozy Witch Mystery Book 2)

by Amy Casey

  She smiled. And in that smile, I knew I believed her. Mary was stronger than I’d ever be. For that, I loved her.

  I heard the bell of the door ring.

  When I turned around, my face dropped.

  I’d grown used to Steve Burke walking in here by now.

  But he was walking right towards me.

  And he didn’t look happy.

  “Hi Steve,” Mary said. “Can I get you a—”

  “So Thomas has escaped,” Steve said.

  He looked me right in the eyes when he said it. And I saw other customers turning around too, whispers starting to grow.

  But Steve kept his focus on me. I could tell he was trying to read me. Trying to break me.

  “Oh,” I said. “That’s…”

  “And you know nothing about it, do you?”

  I swallowed a lump in my throat. I had to keep my cool. I couldn’t give off any signals, any indications that I knew exactly what had happened to my cousin—even if I still suspected that my cousin wasn’t as cut and dry out of the picture as I wanted to think he was. “Why would I know anything about it?”

  “You turn up at the station looking glassy-eyed. You turn up at my place in a… a clown outfit.”

  “Wait,” Mary said. “She did what?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said.

  “And then when I have the decency—or the idiocy—to tell you why your cousin is inside… not only do you disappear, but then Thomas disappears later that night too. And you’re telling me you don’t know a thing about this?”

  I looked right back into Steve’s eyes. Witchy Delights was silent with suspense.

  Then I shrugged and half smiled at Steve. “Don’t you believe in coincidences, Steve?”

  Steve’s eyes twitched. His cheeks went red.

  He started to say something else, then he shook his head and turned away. “You’re not off the table, Stella. You just remember that.”

  He pulled open the Witchy Delights door, stepped out into the snow.

  “You’re on thin ice,” he said. “Very thin—”

  He slipped over.

  Tumbled onto his arse.

  A few sniggers from the customers.

  He stumbled back to his feet. Brushed himself down. His cheeks were bright red.

  “Yeah,” I said, smirk on my face. “I might be on thin ice. Looks like you are too.”

  I wanted to feel calmer after Steve’s fall. I wanted to feel like the tension had broken somewhat, and that everything was going to be okay.

  But I couldn’t deny the reality of this situation.

  Thomas had escaped.

  A prime suspect had escaped.

  And by virtue of relation, I was suspected.

  I watched as Steve walked off into the snow, trying his best not to fall onto his arse again.

  Whatever happened next… I was going to have to be careful.

  Very careful.

  Or it could be over for me very, very soon.

  Chapter 29

  Sometimes in life, you get a lucky break when you’re least expecting it.

  My lucky break had me sitting in the kitchen of Bill Collins.

  What was so important about Bill Collins, you’re asking?

  I’ll tell you.

  Bill Collins was the man who found Andy Carter’s body.

  Only he didn’t tell the police about it right away.

  Something else about Bill Collins.

  Something even more important.

  Remember that gold coin I spotted right by the door to the room where Andy Carter was killed?

  I hadn’t thought much of it at the time. Only when I’d heard the rest of the rumours.

  But Bill Collins was an avid coin collector.

  And that coin had certainly not looked run of the mill.

  I’d followed Bill Collins home to his quaint little cottage. It looked sweet in the snow. Bill lived alone, which was something I had to be wary of. After all, he’d found Andy Carter’s body, according to gossipy Joan, and he hadn’t reported it right away, leaving it to someone else.

  The very fact that he could be linked to Andy Carter at all meant one thing, and one thing only.

  Bill Collins was a suspect.

  Want to know something else about Bill Collins? Something that gossip had led me to understand?

  Bill Collins was in close cohorts with Herbert Young and Stephen Hankinson.

  And some people had claimed they’d seen Herbert arguing with Bill on the night of the wedding in very hushed, secretive tones.

  I’d knocked on Bill’s door.

  And, Bill being the Bill I knew, he’d let me in right away.

  His house was nice. White leather sofas, a little cracked and knackered by his Siamese cat, but still nice enough. I’d sat down in his kitchen, where he made me a green tea.

  “I’ll whack the heating up,” Bill said, pottering about his kitchen. “You must be freezing without a coat.”

  I smiled. “I’m fine. Really.”

  I noticed something about Bill’s demeanour. Something more… well, distracted about him. And that had me feeling more curious about him. I’d heard the rumours. Now I just had to find out the truth, whatever the truth may be.

  He sat down at the table opposite me. He was a strange man. Short, squat, with a bald head and thin glasses. Always seemed to be smiling. Rarely came in Witchy Delights unless it was for a takeaway. He wasn’t the sort of guy you could really picture sitting in a coffee shop, reading a book, that kind of thing. Definitely not the same guy he used to be before his wife left him.

  Today, he seemed more agitated than ever. Like he was trying to maintain his composure while hiding some secret deep down.

  I had a few assets in my possession. The truth serum. I also felt a lot stronger, magically. Like I could look into his thoughts and get the answers I wanted.

  But I decided to jump straight in. After all, it was sometimes the best way to gauge someone’s reactions—the mere look on their face when they were faced with the truth.

  “What can I do for you, anyway? It’s nice to see you. Haven’t had a brew in years, have we?”

  I smiled back at him. Sipped some of my tea. “I was wondering whether you noticed anything weird on the night of Andy Carter’s murder?”

  His cheeks flushed, right away. Eye contact broke. “Oh,” he said.

  I had him.

  And now I had him, I knew I had to reel myself in. I couldn’t be as forward as that, not all the time.

  “Just thought it was weird,” I said. “I mean, the fact that they had a guy and then the guy escaped…”

  “I heard he was your cousin,” Bill said.

  He said it with a tone that bordered on the malicious. It was a tone I’d never heard from Bill before; a side of him I didn’t know existed.

  I cleared my throat and nodded, deciding ignorance was the best policy in this case. “My cousin? I didn’t… I don’t have any family around here. I mean my dad lives just out of town, but… Which cousin’s this?”

  I saw Bill relax a little then. Like he really believed I was just here to chat about the case; to gossip about events. “Maybe I heard wrong,” he said, like he was reeling himself in too, playing me at my own game. “Rumours can be vicious.”

  “There’s a few rumours going round, isn’t there?”

  He stood up, then. Walked away from the table. I sensed that he knew he was in a game of ping-pong now, and that he was eager not to let himself lose—so was taking his time to compose himself. And as he walked away, I knew now was a good time to try and sneak into his mind; to bypass his thoughts.

  I gritted my teeth. Focused on the back of his head.

  And just before I broke through the white noise of his consciousness, he turned and looked right at me.

  “I’m guessing you’re talking about the rumour that I found Andy’s body?”

  I quickly snapped out of my trance. Couldn’t have him seeing me focus like that. C
ouldn’t have him figuring out what I was doing; what my game was. “I did hear that, yeah.”

  “Well, it’s nonsense,” Bill said. “I said to a few people that it was strange that I hadn’t seen Andy for a while. But honestly, I’d left by that point.”

  “Is that why I found a rather fancy looking gold coin at the crime scene?”

  I saw the look, then. The look that I shouldn’t know this. That I’d stepped over a line. “What are you talking about?” he said.

  “One of your nice little coins,” I said. “It was right near the room where Andy’s body was found. I forgot about your passion for coin-collecting. But once I remembered…Well, it all seemed to make a perfect kind of sense. Not to mention the fact that someone saw you creeping back in then sneaking out again in a hurry. Or are you going to tell me they are just malicious rumours, too?”

  Bill shook his head. “This is nonsense.”

  “Maybe it is,” I said, standing up, being sure that I had plenty of room to run if I had to. “Or maybe it’s the truth.”

  Bill walked right up to me. Stared up at me. His bottom lip shook. His jaw twitched. He didn’t look like the friendly old eccentric man I’d believed him to be, not anymore.

  “I think you should leave,” he said.

  I smiled at him. “Oh, I’ll leave. But before I do… Herbert Young and Stephen Hankinson. What’s your deal with them?”

  I saw his face turn red. I had my answer. Bill was involved, too. Of course he was.

  And I saw now as an opportunity to try and find out the truth.

  I reached for the truth serum. Steadied myself.

  Then something remarkable happened.

  Something entirely unexpected.

  Bill burst into tears.

  He collapsed onto the floor. Held his head in his hands, sobbing away.

  “Bill?” I said.

  “I didn’t want to get involved,” he said.

  I walked over to him, wondering whether this was a ruse or not. “Involved in what?”

  “They told me it was low risk. They—they told me it’d raise money. And if I raised money, I could get my wife back. She’d—she’d want to be with me again.”

  I heard the anguish and the desperation in Bill’s voice and I started to pity him, somewhat. But I couldn’t let emotion carry me away. “What was low risk? What did they have you do?”

  He looked up at me, tears rolling down his devastated face. “I can’t. They—they’ll hurt me. They threatened me before and they’ll threaten me again.”

  I put a hand on Bill’s shoulder. “Nobody will hurt you. I promise you.”

  “You can’t promise me that.”

  “I can try. But right now you’re running out of breathing space. Surely you can see that?”

  Bill’s eyes wandered, like he was hearing what I said, considering it.

  “Speak to me, Bill,” I said. “Don’t make me…” I was about to say “force it out of you”. But I figured that was a viable option right now.

  I reached for the truth serum again. I knew what I had to do.

  I flicked up the lid. Prepared to throw it.

  And just before I did, Bill spoke.

  “The Roanoke Developments,” he said.

  I froze. Frowned. What did a housing development have to do with any of this? “The Roanokes?”

  “I can’t tell you. But… but if you go there at midnight, you’ll find what you need to find. Just… please. Don’t let it come back to me. Promise you won’t let it come back to me.”

  I held my breath. Gently tightened the lid around the truth serum.

  And I nodded as I helped Bill back to his feet.

  As I left his house, out into the snow, I looked back and saw his fearful eyes watching me as I walked away.

  I wasn’t sure what I had.

  But I knew one thing for sure.

  One question.

  What did a new property development just outside of town have to do with any of this?

  And what was I going to find there at midnight?

  Chapter 30

  As I approached the Roanokes, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.

  It was late at night. Ten to midnight, to be precise. I’d got down here a little earlier than Bill Collins had told me to, mostly because I wanted to wait outside for a while and measure up what I was going up against. After all, I remembered damn well the last time I’d gone to some building site late at night, ready to come face to face with something rather significant in the case—at least that was how this felt. Shades of deja vu were there. And as much as I was anticipating whatever lay ahead, I couldn’t help being anxious about what might be waiting for me.

  I zipped up my parka right to the bottom of my chin. The snow had stopped, but in its place, the icy cold air. It was bitter. Uncharacteristically so. I wondered whether there were some kinds of weather gods at play, interacting with the climate in Goosridge, urging me to stop my investigation.

  But then again, that was the stuff of fantasy.

  That said, so too were witches, and that didn’t stop me living the life I lived.

  The Roanokes were a new housing development being built on the edge of Goosridge. Well, I say “being built.” Construction started here three years ago, but progress seemed to have stalled in the last six months. Something to do with a lack of outside interest for moving into the area. Which I could understand, especially after last year’s murders.

  But oh yeah. Small fact. Herbert Young had a stake in the construction of these buildings.

  I walked towards the estates, the frosty earth crunching underfoot as I tried not to slip. I could see my breath frosting in front of me, feel its coldness hitting my lungs. It really was bizarre, seeing an estate like this so… well, lifeless. It looked like a set of model homes, only there was something nightmarish about them, mostly the fact that some of these places were finished and pre-furnished, while others were still in their half-finished state. It was like a bomb site.

  I took a deep breath and looked around the estates. I couldn’t see any movement, any signs of life. Which unnerved me, naturally. And it dawned on me just how little Bill Collins had actually told me about this place. Because sure, he’d as good as told me about some deal he’d had with Herbert Young and Stephen Hankinson. He’d as good as confirmed that he’d been lying at the wedding, and that he had been the one to discover Andy Carter’s body. And as far as I was concerned, he’d as good as confirmed that whatever secret he had—whatever secret dealings were going on—all of it was linked to Andy Carter’s death.

  But he’d only told me to come to the estates. He hadn’t told me exactly where to go, or what on earth I’d be looking for.

  For all I knew, this could be some kind of setup. Some kind of trap.

  It wouldn’t be the first time that group had tried to get me out of the picture.

  I stood in the middle of the estates, breath frosting in front of me. I looked around. No lights. No movement. Nothing.

  I looked down at my watch. Five to midnight. Whatever was supposed to be happening… well, it was supposed to be happening about now.

  I walked over to the far side of the road, already growing in resignation, when I saw the light.

  It was from a window at the far side of the estates. A flash of a torchlight. Then another. Then another. Then nothing.

  And as much as I wanted to go over there and investigate… I couldn’t help but duck down behind the garden wall of the house I was at.

  Especially when I heard the engine come to life.

  When I saw the car entering the estates, headlights off.

  I stayed still, gritting my teeth, perching on my knees.

  This car—stripped of its registration plates—made its way to the middle of the estates, then slowed down. I held my breath for a second. They were right before me. Which meant they’d seen me. They were going to come over here. They were going to find me. They were…

  Then the ca
r kept on driving, over towards that house, towards that flashlight.

  I stood up, then. Cast whatever invisibility I could—which was so weak it was more like a chameleonic camouflage at this stage. I crept over towards that house, using the garden walls as shelter from view as well as I could.

  And when I was about three houses away, I saw someone climb out of the car with a big load of suitcases by their side.

  They looked around, masked so nobody could see their face. And for a second, I swore they looked right at me.

  Then they disappeared inside the half-constructed house.

  I held my breath. Bit my lip. It felt like whatever was going on in there was lasting forever, and yet it was really just a matter of minutes.

  There was one thing, though. It was midnight, dead on. So this was what Bill Collins had been pointing me towards. This was what he’d wanted me to see—what he was so scared of.

  But what was it?

  What was Bill Collins trying to show me, truly?

  I sighed. “Enough of this.”

  Then I stood up and started to walk towards the house.

  That was when the same man walked out, another different coloured suitcase in hand—and this time he definitely looked my way.

  I froze still. My invisibility wasn’t great. I just had to hope that if I stayed still, it’d be good enough.

  He looked over at me. Tilted his head. Raised his torch and shone it in my direction.

  And for a few painful seconds, I was convinced he was going to come over here.

  But then he flicked off his torch and got back into the car.

  Then he drove off, and the Roanokes were silent once more.

  I waited a while. Waited where I was. I didn’t want to risk moving too quickly. After all, this could still be some kind of setup, some kind of trap.

  I didn’t want to go walking into that house where I’d seen the light. After all, there’d been someone in there before. What if the man in the car really had seen me, and his friend was just waiting for me to step into the crosshairs?

  I waited. Waited some more. I waited until the wait was no longer bearable.

  Then I realised now was my moment.

  Now was my chance.

  Now or never.