by Bailey Cates
Mimsey touched one of her curls. “Five very well-coifed women, I might add.”
Jaida grinned. “Piece of cake.”
The old Buick and an SUV crossover were in the parking lot. We got out and quietly closed the doors. I eyed the small SUV, trying to remember if I’d seen it before. It could have been one of the vehicles that had passed on the street when Tucker had been at Wisteria House, but I couldn’t be sure. Those cars all looked the same to me. Then I remembered it had been in the parking lot when we’d left Prater’s on Wednesday.
The woman with the sunglasses and hat.
We crossed the parking lot to the entrance and stopped. The sign in the window was turned to CLOSED. I cupped my hand around my eyes and leaned my forehead against the door, trying to peer inside. It was impossible to make out anything in the dark interior through the dirty glass. I tried the door. It was locked.
“Maybe he was frightened and decided to close before they got here,” Bianca said.
“His car’s here,” I said. “At least I think so.” But I didn’t know for sure the Buick was his. And what about the crossover?
I struggled to remember the other customer who had been in the store when Rori and I had visited Prater to ask about the music box. The mysterious woman in the big hat and sunglasses. She came in right after us. She could have overheard our discussion with Prater. If so, she would have known Rori had the music box, and might have been able to figure out where to find her. But how? The same way Tucker had? Through his contact at the vacation rental company?
I tried to remember what she’d looked like, standing in the shadows of the antique store, but all I could recall were the dress and hat and sunglasses. Then I realized why.
“She was employing a glamour,” I said out loud.
“Who?” Mimsey demanded.
“There was another customer in here when Rori and I asked Hudson Prater to appraise the value of the music box. I’d forgotten about her until now. But those same two cars were here when we left, and I have to wonder if one of them isn’t hers.” I started to rub my face, but Lucy grabbed my hand.
“Honey. Your makeup.”
I dropped my hands and looked around at them. “I think our murderer might already be in there with Prater.”
“Who is it?” Jaida demanded.
Shaking my head, I stepped back to take another look at the building. “I don’t know. She hid herself behind a glamour.”
“But it’s a woman,” Jaida said, slipping into interrogation mode.
“Yes. So it’s not Jake Gibson or Zane Wiggins.” I started around the side of the squat brick building to the back. Maybe there was another door.
“So we’re looking at Waverly Wiggins, who knew the lottery ticket was in the music box and knew Tucker must have taken it. Also, she and her brother really needed the money.”
“But you said she didn’t seem like a murderer,” Lucy said, padding along on my heels. The others were following, too.
“She could have fooled me. A lot of that going around,” I said. “Who else? Effie Glass, I guess. She’s blond and could have been one of the women Dayleen heard Tucker arguing with at the motel. Also, Tucker came right out and told her he’d won the lottery. Maybe she believed him more than she let on to Mimsey and me.”
“I think she was telling me the truth,” Mimsey said from behind me.
I stopped and looked at her. She meant because she’d used her Voice when we’d talked to Effie. I kept silent about that detail, simply saying, “I think so, too. I did see her with Dayleen in the Honeybee, though. Maybe she told Dayleen about the lottery? But that doesn’t make sense. Not unless they knew each other before Tucker’s murder.”
I sighed. What other women were involved in this case? Carolyn Becker, but she had a rock-solid alibi.
Who else?
The day was warm, and I could feel perspiration glistening at my hairline. The sun made me squint as I headed for the shadows on the east side of the building, and I wished I’d brought sunglasses.
Sunglasses.
The woman in the antique store had been wearing big sunglasses that hid most of her face. So had Serena Gibson when she’d come into the Gibson Estate Sales office. Baseball cap, dark ponytail, big blue eyes—and not only sunglasses, but the same sunglasses as the woman Rori and I had seen in Prater’s.
What had Rori said after seeing her in the antique store?
I just got the strangest shiver. I hope I’m not coming down with something.
The exact same sunglasses. She might be a master at glamour spells, but she hadn’t changed her sunglasses.
“There.” Lucy pointed. “The back door.”
We sidled down the back wall toward where she pointed. My mind was racing.
Serena had known Tucker and had worked with him. I only had her word that she’d not been involved with the Wiggins estate. Jake had left by the time she told Rori and me that. She easily could have known about the hidden lottery ticket if she and Tucker were working together. And what if Tucker crossed her? Took the ticket and tried to hide out at the Spotlight Motel? She’d try to find him, that’s what. He’d kept looking over his shoulder when he was at Wisteria House talking to Rori. He’d wanted to come inside, and she wouldn’t invite him in. If he’d been trying to dodge Serena, and Serena was looking for the music box, he might have given it to Rori for safekeeping. And if Serena did track him down and he no longer had the music box? She’d be furious.
I thought of the hole in the plaster in the Gibsons’ office. I’d assumed Jake had made it. Now I wasn’t so sure.
“It’s Serena Gibson,” I whispered as we gathered by the thick metal door. In a few short sentences, I told them my reasoning. “And if I’m right, she’s angry, desperate, and prone to violence.”
“Also a witch,” Mimsey pointed out.
“That, too.”
Jaida tried the door. The knob didn’t turn.
Lucy looked relieved. “We’ll have to wait for Detective Quinn to get here.”
Then Jaida yanked on the door, and it opened a few inches. She grinned at us. “There’s no lock in the knob. This locks with a deadbolt only.” She pointed.
“Nice work,” I said, and slowly pulled the door all the way open.
“We should wait,” Lucy said.
A crash sounded from inside, then a man groaned.
“Why don’t you stay outside until Quinn gets here, Luce,” I said, and slipped inside.
Jaida followed, then Bianca and Mimsey. Lucy propped the door open and brought up the rear, looking determined. We were in a short hallway. An alcove off to the side held a furnace, silent this time of year, and beyond that was a small bathroom. I glanced inside, absently noting its lack of cleanliness, and moved quietly to where the hallway opened out to the main shop.
I crept forward, grateful for the carpet that masked my footsteps. The clothes rack I’d spied at the back of the store on my previous visit came into view. The smell of mothballs was nearly overwhelming so close to it, but I could use it to orient myself in relation to where the register counter was in the middle of the store. Pointing in that general direction, I gestured the others forward.
“Where is it?” a woman screamed. “Where have you hidden it, old man?”
Beside me, Lucy gasped. I didn’t blame her. The voice was horrible. Not just angry but wildly unstable.
Great.
We heard the groan again, and my stomach twisted. Hudson Prater was hurt, and who knew what Serena was doing right this moment. We couldn’t wait for Quinn to get his messages and decide to show up. I deeply regretted telling Prater not to call 911.
But I still had my phone. I pulled it out, made sure the ringer was off and the volume was as low as it could go, and made the call. The operator answered, and I put the phone back in the pocket of my jeans, leaving the
call open, hoping they could trace it.
Jaida moved up beside me with an approving nod. She pointed to Lucy and Bianca. Then she gestured for them to move to the right. Next, she pointed to Mimsey and herself and indicated they’d go to the left. She pointed at me and made the straight-ahead sign.
We all understood. I’d confront Serena, while the rest of the spellbook club flanked her position. Jaida’s military precision would have been amusing in other circumstances, but there was nothing funny in this situation.
The others slunk away, and I tiptoed down one of the narrow aisles bordered by furniture piled higher than my head toward Serena Gibson and Hudson Prater. As I did, I realized the aisles were spokes that led out from the center rather than arranged in a grid. That might make it easier for the spellbook club to circle around. I hoped so. I had a feeling I was going to need all the help I could get.
“You hid it, didn’t you?” Serena screamed again in that voice that made my prettily done hair come to attention on my scalp. “You know what’s in there! Well, it’s not yours.” There was a sickening sound of something striking something thick. “It’s not yours. It’s mine. Give it to me!”
I stepped out from behind a hulking credenza. The sight that greeted my eyes stopped me in my tracks, stunned. Hudson Prater lay on the floor in front of the counter. He was rolled into a ball, with his hands over his head and his eyes squeezed shut. Standing over him was a woman. That’s all I could tell—that she was female. The air around her shifted and wavered, playing with my vision so that I couldn’t focus on the figure for more than a second or two at a time. Was she blond or brunette? I couldn’t even tell skin color or what she wore. The atmosphere reeked of the magic I’d smelled in Tucker’s motel room and Wisteria house.
The veil around her crackled with power, almost audibly snapping as she moved. She drew her foot back to kick Prater again.
“Serena,” I said.
She whirled toward me, eyes blazing. They altered in flashes, so that I couldn’t tell their color or shape. Her glamour was so out of control, it was as if I wasn’t facing a real human being anymore.
“Leave him alone,” I said. “He doesn’t have the music box.”
“You,” she hissed. “I knew you’d be trouble. Asking after that ring. You’ve known all along. And now you have the box.” She drew the word out, sounding for the world like Gollum.
I made myself take a step forward. “No. I don’t have it, either. The police do. And they have the lottery ticket. They’ll be returning it to the rightful owners in time for them to cash it in and use the money to pay for their father’s medical treatment.”
She shrieked in rage.
I cringed but managed not to run. She was crazy and very dangerous. The crazy was part of her power, I realized. And I had to wonder if it hadn’t been caused by misusing her power in the first place.
“No!” She picked up the lamp from the desk and threw it at me.
I ducked.
Next came the card holder, then a small table from behind her. She was enormously strong, but her aim was terrible, and I managed to avoid all the projectiles. Then came the soup tureen.
I sidestepped it, and it crashed into an old sewing machine table and smashed into pieces. I’d avoided the tureen, but in the process stumbled into a china hutch stacked with end tables piled high with old magazines. The magazines slid off, raining down on my head, followed by one of the end tables. I fended them off with my arms and wasn’t hurt, but a cloud of old, sour dust rose all around me. I looked down to see my arms were streaked with dirt. I could only imagine what my face and hair looked like.
Turning back toward Serena, I advanced.
She was panting. “I waited for years to have that kind of money. I groomed Tucker for a year. I showed him how to use his own natural charisma, and then I gave the gift of more!”
“The signet ring enhanced it,” I said, stalling for time. If I could keep her attention away from Prater long enough, the police would get here.
The air crackled again, and she became more recognizable as Serena Gibson. “Yes. The ring.” She raised her hand, and I saw she was wearing it. It throbbed with power.
On either side of her, Jaida and Bianca emerged from their own aisleways, but Serena didn’t see them. Then I saw Mimsey right behind her. The diminutive witch who usually resembled Cinderella’s fairy godmother shone with a deep presence. Her clear blue eyes held speculation as she studied Serena.
“Did your husband know about the lottery ticket?” I asked.
“Jake? Of course not,” she scoffed. “He’d give it back. He doesn’t realize how much it costs to live the way we do. To have all the pretty things. For him to drive a Cadillac.”
While you drive a what? A Subaru?
“I did it for him. I do it all for him.” There was a new plaintiveness to her voice. Her face wavered. An audible pop sounded. She turned, took a couple steps, and grabbed a cast-iron Dutch oven off the top of a dresser and flung it at me with all her might.
Her aim was much better this time. Without thinking about it, I flung up my arm and, in an instant, drew on the energy being offered to me by my coven mates, the four elements, and surprisingly, Serena’s own power. There was a blue flash of light, and the heavy metal pot fell to the ground at my feet.
Serena hissed in a breath, and her eyes grew wide. She turned to run.
Mimsey stood between Serena and the front door. She drew herself up to her full height and stood her ground. Serena advanced toward her.
No, no, no. Stay away from Mimsey.
“Did you follow Rori and me here the day after you killed Tucker?” I asked, desperately trying to distract her. “Or was it dumb luck that you were here?”
She stopped and turned. “I don’t believe in dumb luck.”
I tried my Voice, just a little. “Serena, what happened at the Spotlight Motel? Did you mean to kill Tucker?”
She blinked. Frowned. “Of course I didn’t mean to kill him. I’m not a killer! I wanted the music box. Correction: I wanted the lottery ticket.” Her voice sounded flat and dreamy as she remembered. “Tucker said he didn’t have it. That he’d given it to his ex-wife.”
So Rori’s ex had thrown her under the bus. A coward as well as a con man.
Serena continued. “I didn’t believe him. Who would do something like that? I didn’t think he’d let it out of his possession. We struggled. He fell and hit his head. While he was unconscious, I searched the room, but the music box really wasn’t there. By then I realized he wasn’t merely unconscious. He was dead. I didn’t mean for that to happen, but I couldn’t undo it. I took the ring and left.
“But I’d figured out where he was staying and had been following him until I could decide how to handle his betrayal. So I knew where the ex lived. I followed her—and you—here, and came in as she was talking to Hudson here about the music box. I knew the lottery ticket was going to expire soon. I had to get the music box back from her.”
“So you broke into the house where she was staying.”
Serena frowned again. Blinked as if coming out of a haze. Fear sparked in her eyes. “Witch,” she hissed. “Leave me alone.” She whirled to face Mimsey.
In a flash, I realized that all the physical damage she’d done, as much destruction as she’d caused, including Tucker’s death and Hudson Prater’s injuries, had been fueled by an impressive anger and possibly desperation but nothing magical.
“You’re a one-trick pony, aren’t you, Serena?”
I saw Mimsey smile as Serena turned back to me. “How dare you judge me.”
“Oh, I’m not judging. I’m just figuring it out. The glamour thing you do.” I waved my hand. “That’s all you know how to do, isn’t it? I mean, it’s good. It’s really good. Too good. I might not have noticed Tucker’s if it hadn’t been so over-the-top.”
A
sneer played on her lips. “I fooled you, didn’t I? And I know how to get away from you. How to hide.” Her lips curved in a truly disturbing grin. “I know how to hide better than you can imagine.”
“Ha!” I said. “I bet you can. With being able to change your appearance and all.”
On the floor between us, Hudson Prater moaned, and his eyes fluttered.
“I’m done talking,” she said. “You won. This time, that is. But I take revenge. I always take revenge. And you’ll never know who you can trust, because you’ll never know if it might be me.”
Her words struck deeply. “Oh, please. You’re good at glamours, sure. But you can’t change into someone else.”
Suddenly, it felt like I was looking at Rori. It wasn’t her, of course. And it didn’t really look like her. Not really. But enough that, for a moment, I doubted.
“Is that so?” Serena said, and turned back toward Mimsey.
Jaida, Bianca, and Lucy stepped out from the piles of furniture.
Serena paused, then her nostrils flared, and her head came down. She’d run right over Mimsey if we didn’t stop her.
“Serena Gibson, do not move,” I said in my Voice, doing my best to target just her, to use my Voice as Mimsey had, carefully as a scalpel. “You want to wait until the police come. You want to pay for your crimes.”
She paused. “I do not want to . . . crimes . . .” She trailed off, looking confused.
Mimsey stepped forward. “Honey, for some reason you think you need to be someone other than you are.” She was using her Voice, too, so much stronger than mine, and subtler at the same time.
The other women exchanged surprised looks. Then they all advanced toward Serena. I walked forward, too. She slowly turned in a circle as we approached.
“Honey, you don’t have to fool anyone. You’re a beautiful, wonderful person,” Mimsey said.
Her Voice is more powerful because it doesn’t command. It allows.
We stood to the side of Prater now, protecting him, surrounding Serena. Jaida raised her arms to her sides, and we all followed suit, forming a circle though our fingertips did not touch.
