by Morgana Best
I felt like a started wombat caught in the headlights. “How, how did you know?” I stuttered.
Alder placed the bottle of wine and the take-out on the table, and sat on the couch. “Penny called me and told me that two women were asking questions about her.”
I felt silly for not even considering that. “You didn’t tell her it was us?”
“No. Anyway, she assumed it was a couple of detectives.”
I sat down. There was a loud ripping sound. At least the zip had worked its way free, to look on the bright side. “That was my dress,” I said stupidly.
Alder nodded. I thought his mouth twitched, but I wasn’t sure.
“Camino has a yard sale tomorrow, so I was trying on my old clothes to see if they still fitted.”
Alder nodded again.
“Um, I’ll just go and change,” I said. I stood up and backed out of the room. Once I was in the hall and out of sight, I turned and hurried to my room. I ripped off the damaged dress and replaced it with jeans and a crossover jersey top. At least now I could breathe deeply. “What is he doing here?” I whispered to Hawthorn who was sprawled on my bed. “Not that I’m complaining!”
I went to the kitchen to fetch wine glasses before returning to the dining room.
Alder spoke first. “Penny is my client. I know she didn’t do it.”
“She seems the obvious suspect,” I said, while Alder poured the wine.
“I’m sure Penny isn’t sorry in the least that Scott’s dead,” Alder said, “but if she was going to kill him, she would’ve done it years ago. Besides, you’ve seen her. She’s slender. She wouldn’t have the strength to strangle Scott.”
I sipped the wine before speaking. “Maybe she hired a hitman.”
Alder smiled. “If she hired a hitman, then she would’ve made sure she had an alibi. More to the point, she wouldn’t have been in town the day Scott was murdered.”
Well, duh! That was obvious, I thought. I didn’t think that one through. Aloud I said, “Do the police think it’s her?”
Alder shook his head. “No, they don’t. Have you seen the haint lately?”
My stomach clenched. “Why, do you think the haint murdered Scott?”
“I don’t think it was the haint,” Alder said carefully. “I think it was a human, a man, but I don’t know why he chose your store to murder Scott. Penny was in town that day. She had an appointment with me. She wanted me to find out anything I could, any dirt on Scott, because he’d applied to the court for access to see the children. He hadn’t wanted to see them for years.”
I narrowed my eyes. “The timing does make her seem suspect, you must admit.”
Alder shrugged. “Like I said, she’d have made sure she was out of town if she’d arranged to have him murdered.” He downed his wine and then stood up.
I stood up, too.
“Amelia, I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’ll come straight out and say it. You’re in danger. I did a divination.”
I was struck speechless. “Me?” I managed to say.
Alder took both my hands in his. “Amelia, promise me you’ll be careful.”
And then, with a swish of his long black coat, he was gone.
I stared after him, wondering why he hadn’t kissed me this time. Had he only kissed me at his apartment because Fred had made him? I was now even more certain that this was the case.
Chapter 19
I woke up and stretched. As soon as Willow and Hawthorn saw my eyes open, both walked up the bed and peered at me, and commenced their cacophony of loud meowing. This was our regular morning routine. It would be nice to have some time in bed to wake up properly, but I don’t think anyone who had a cat would have that luxury.
I reluctantly climbed out of bed, put on my fake Ugg boots that I’d bought on sale at Payless, and then staggered to the kitchen.
I filled two bowls, and the cats ate as if they were starving. I noted that their bowl of dry food was half full, so I put a little more in it. Willow stopped eating his food and dived on the dry food. “There was already plenty in there,” I informed him. “This is a Sunday, and humans like to sleep in on a Sunday morning.”
The cats kept eating as if I had said nothing of interest.
As I switched on the coffee machine, I lamented the fact that I’d had no time to come into my own as a Dark Witch, whatever that expression meant. I had intended to try to figure it out, but life kept getting in the way.
I took my coffee and went into the living room, where I stretched out on the couch, grateful that the house wasn’t watching Game of Thrones at this time of day. I suppose even the house liked to sleep on a Sunday morning.
I half intended to fall back to sleep, when I remembered what day it was. Camino’s yard sale. My Dark Witchy self would have to wait. I groaned and then downed the rest of my coffee in one gulp.
When I arrived at Camino’s, caffeine-fueled and clutching my clothing donations, I saw a big sign adorning the lawn: All money going to charity - The Parachute Widows. I winced at the thought of all those poor men falling to their death. Sure, I have an active imagination, but the image was just too gruesome. I knew that parachuting wasn’t a safe sport, of course, but I had no idea that sufficient men were killed doing it to warrant a charity for their widows.
Camino was already serving customers, so I arranged my clothes donations as best I could. I was pleased to see Thyme arrive. I’d told her she could park at my house to leave room for the yard sale customers to park outside Camino’s house. “Ruprecht agrees that Penny’s the killer,” Thyme said by way of greeting, and then yawned loudly.
I yawned, too. “I don’t think she is. Alder told me why she was in town that day. She’s a client of his, and he said she definitely didn’t do it.”
Thyme raised her eyebrows and stared at me. “What? When did he tell you that?”
“He came over last night.”
Thyme’s eyebrows rose even higher. “He did? Did you…”
I interrupted her. “Of course not! I hardly know him.”
“Not as well as you’d like to.” Thyme winked at me.
I playfully swatted her with the leg of my old jeans. I didn’t mind being teased—after all, that was far better than her having an attitude to Alder. She certainly seemed to be warming to him. And he had been quite warm to me, but had he only kissed me because I’d wished he would? I just had to get some more time to figure out this whole thing.
“Ruprecht is still looking into other suspects, though.”
I nodded. I was pleased about that. It would make things really awkward if Ruprecht and the others insisted that Penny was the killer, when Alder insisted that she wasn’t.
Camino hurried over to us. “Would you two serve the drinks and food?”
We both said that we would. In fact, we’d already agreed to do so, which is why I’d donated several trays of cupcakes. “Thyme and I will go fetch the cupcakes,” I told her. Camino thanked me profusely. “I always like to help out a charity,” I said. “I had no idea that parachuting is responsible for so many deaths.”
Camino looked blank. “What do you mean?”
It was my turn to be confused. “I mean your charity, of course, The Parachute Widows, the wives of men who died parachuting,” I added to spell it out.
Camino’s jaw dropped. “Oh Amelia, you’re just too funny,” she said with a chuckle. “It’s not for that! No, it’s for women whose husbands are too obsessed with parachuting. You know, like football widows.” Camino chuckled again.
I looked at Thyme, but she shrugged.
Camino kept talking. “I’ve assigned you and Thyme the job of making non-alcoholic cocktails with little umbrellas in them, since you’ll be doing the food anyway. Umbrellas are the closest things to parachutes. Oh, look, another customer!” Camino rubbed her hands together with glee and hurried away.
I turned to Thyme. “I’m shocked that it could be a registered charity. Was Camino joking?”
Thy
me shook her head. “Sadly, I don’t think she is. I’m not saying she’s right, though. Maybe she’s confused.”
I didn’t know whether or not I hoped she was confused. I didn’t want lots of men to die parachuting, but the alternative was surely not charity-worthy. I shrugged and gestured to the trestle table. “Oh well, let’s get set up.”
We hadn’t finished setting up before the first customers arrived. Both of us had to serve, and we still hadn’t made the non-alcoholic cocktails. At the first break in customers, Thyme gathered the ingredients. “Amelia, I should make them and you can put the umbrellas in.”
I agreed it was a safer option. I was sure I was better at making drinks than baking, but it was best not to take the risk. We worked together and soon had an array of dazzling cocktails, all strangely in plastic cups and adorned by multi-colored umbrellas. We finished just in time, because about ten cars arrived at once.
As the crowd walked onto Camino’s lawn, it seemed they all spied the cupcakes and cocktails at once. The people as one group headed straight for us.
Just as I readied myself to serve them, the umbrellas left the cocktails and rose into the air. Everyone gasped. The umbrellas hovered for a moment around head height, and then rose even higher. I hadn’t even felt a breeze, let alone a strong wind.
Thyme clutched my arm. “What’s happening?”
I had no clue, but then I noticed a man standing in front of me, smiling at me. He was wearing one of those novelty spinning bow ties. “Fred!” I exclaimed.
“Make him stop,” Thyme said urgently.
“Fred, stop!” I said. “Fred, I wish you’d stop.”
My words had no effect, and Fred continued to smile at me as the umbrellas rose ever higher. Without warning, they all floated to the ground in unison, and broke apart upon contact.
“I get it,” a teenager said. “Cool! They were meant to be parachutes, weren’t they? Very clever. How did you do that?”
“Magnets,” I said, hoping the guy wasn’t a physics student and would press me for details. Luckily, people simply stepped up to the table to buy cocktails that were now minus their umbrellas.
“I’m sure I didn’t say the W word this time!” I hissed at Thyme.
Thyme agreed. “I’m certain you didn’t. This means he’s getting worse. This is pretty bad, Amelia.”
“I know,” I said grimly.
“Do something! I’ll look after the customers.”
I walked away from the crowd, over to my fence, against the tall eucalyptus tree on the border of my land and Camino’s. I was hoping Fred would follow me so I could talk to him, but he mingled with the crowd.
This was it—I couldn’t put it off any longer. Everyone had told me that now was the time to be coming to my powers, so I would have to make it a priority. Matters were escalating, and who knows what Fred would do next.
I was by myself. I had no candles, crystals, or herbs. I didn’t have my wand. I just had myself. All I could do was summon the magic within me.
I stood still and closed my eyes, and tried to feel the pulse of the earth running through me. First I felt nothing, then I felt a little spark, a hint of something. I didn’t know what it was, but I didn’t focus on that. Instead, I let it build. As I felt the power rising within me, I focused on Fred stopping what he was doing, and going away.
I could say a surge of power pulsed through me, but it wasn’t quite that. It was as if I had settled into something. I opened my eyes, and Fred had vanished.
Thyme hurried over to me. “He just went, like that!” She snapped her fingers.
“Did anyone else see?”
Thyme shook her head. “I don’t think so. He was at the back of the crowd.”
I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
“How did you do it?”
“You know how you want a parking place somewhere where it’s unlikely that you’d get one, and you hold it with your mind just so, and then you get it?”
Thyme stared at me. “You can do that?”
“Yes, can’t everyone?”
“No! How long have you been able to do that?”
“For as long as I can remember.” I didn’t know why she was so shocked. “Anyway, it was the same feeling as that. I held it with my mind just so—it’s hard to explain—and the umbrellas stopped, and then Fred vanished.”
“Has he gone for good?”
I shook my head. “No. Don’t ask me how I know, but he hasn’t.” That was next on my To Do list.
Chapter 20
I was tired, exhausted in fact. Recent events had taken their toll, not only the murder, but I was in two minds about my relationship with Alder. Sure, I wanted a relationship with him—did I ever!—but I didn’t want one that I had wished into being. I didn’t know how to handle that situation, and so I did what I always did when I didn’t know what to do: I avoided it. I hadn’t returned Alder’s calls or texts.
Thyme and I arrived at the store at the same time. “Have you seen Fred since yesterday?” Thyme asked me as I unlocked the door.
“No,” I said.
Thyme walked in first. “Perhaps he has gone for good, then.”
“No.” I shook my head. “No, I can feel him around.”
Thyme shot me a speculative look. “We have some time before opening. Why don’t we see if your baking has improved?”
I stopped at the door to the back room and looked at her. “What do you mean? I don’t see a connection.”
Thyme gave me a gentle shove. “Get in there and rustle up some plain cupcakes, nothing too fancy, mind you. Remember how we told you that your powers as a witch were tied up with your baking?”
I nodded. “Yes, I remember it well. You told me over hundred times,” I added sarcastically.
Thyme was unperturbed. “Did you understand it?”
I sighed. “Yes. Well, no. I have a natural affinity with fire magic because I’m a powerful witch, that why I set cakes on fire when I’m baking.”
“That’s right.”
I shrugged. I had never understood it, and it sure wasn’t any clearer to me now.
“And that’s why I’m sure your baking has improved.”
“What?” I was exasperated.
Thyme’s response was to gather flour, eggs, milk, sugar, and butter and deposit them on the countertop. “Amelia Spelled, you make a batch of cupcakes right now!” She put her hands on her hips. “You’ve started to control your magic, and that goes hand in hand with your baking. Wait and see.”
It seemed I had no choice. Thyme handed me the recipe and I prepared to follow it religiously, just as I always did. However, my usual attempts ended in visits from the firefighters as well as insurance claims. My premiums were quite high by now.
After I preheated the oven, I mixed the ingredients. By the time I placed the cupcakes in the oven, Thyme was beaming. I didn’t share her enthusiasm. “Only twelve minutes to go!” she announced happily. “You’ll see!”
I filled a bucket of water, just to be on the safe side, and then sat next to her. Five minutes later, I was beginning to be little excited. My baking attempts had usually caught on fire by now. Could Thyme have been right?
Finally, the time was up, and there was no smoke in sight. Thyme and I stood up and high fived each other. “Well then, get them out of the oven,” she said. “I’ll get the cooling rack.”
I wasn’t quite game. Still, I bravely reached for the oven mitts and gingerly edged toward the oven. I opened the door carefully, expecting a rush of smoke, but there was nothing. With Thyme cheering behind me, I reached in and took out the tray. The tray was awfully heavily, but the cakes were not charcoal, so that was a huge improvement.
Thyme could not get the grin off her face as I tipped the cakes onto the cooling rack. It promptly collapsed, squashed flat. I reached for one of the cakes, but dropped it on the ground. “Yay!” Thyme yelled. “It didn’t crack the concrete! The last cake you made that didn’t spontaneously combust made a big crack in
the concrete!”
I allowed myself to be pleased. This was a significant improvement. Perhaps Thyme was right, after all. I tried to stick a knife in the cake, but of course it couldn’t penetrate it. I tried another cake, and managed to cut a crust off the edge. “Wow, I really have improved,” I said with delight. Still, I had no time to rest on my laurels as I had to open the shop.
No sooner had I opened the door than Ruprecht walked in, followed by Camino and Mint. Thyme hurried out to tell them the good news. “You won’t believe it! Amelia just baked a small batch of cupcakes, and there wasn’t a fire, not even any smoke! And they didn’t come out all black.”
Ruprecht placed his hand on my shoulder. “I knew you could do it, Amelia. Thyme already told me how you disposed of Fred yesterday. This is all tied in with your baking.”
“So Thyme keeps telling me,” I said dryly.
“Magic isn’t complicated,” Ruprecht said with a faraway look in his eyes, “or at least, it doesn’t have to be. The practitioner simply needs focus, belief in her or his abilities, and intention. Intention is everything. As Horace said, ‘Aequam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem.’”
“Excuse me?” I said. I suspected I had a migraine coming on.
“You know, Horace the famous Roman poet,” Thyme said.
I sighed. “I know who Horace is, but I can’t understand Latin.”
“When life’s path is steep, remember to keep your mind even.”
My jaw dropped. “Thyme, I didn’t know you could speak Latin!”
Everyone, with the exception of Ruprecht, burst into laughter. He was still speaking Latin softy, although this time to himself. “It’s one of Grandfather’s favorite sayings,” Mint said. “The rest of us can’t speak Latin. We’ve just heard the saying along with its translation a million times.” She tapped Ruprecht on the arm. “Grandfather, are you going to tell Amelia about Laurence Burleigh?”
“Oh yes, forgive me. Yesterday, I discovered that Scott was blackmailing Laurence.”
“You’re kidding!” I cast an anxious glance at the door, hoping customers wouldn’t come in before I had the chance to hear all about it. “Over what?”
