“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He laughed and gave me a kiss. “I live here? Are you okay? Are those croissants?”
I stood up. “I know you live here, but right now Starla is at the police station being questioned about some new evidence that was found. Why aren’t you there?”
Color drained from his face. “She’s what?”
I repeated myself, adding more details about the phone call Marcus had received and how long Starla had been at the station.
Angrily striding into the kitchen, he grabbed his cell phone off the counter. “The battery’s dead.” Letting out a deep breath laced with an undercurrent of curse words, he said, “I need to go.” He dashed up the stairs.
Mimi hung over the back of the couch. “He’s mad.”
An understatement, if the throbbing vein in his forehead was any indication. I walked into the kitchen and picked up the landline phone and heard the dial tone. Even if the station hadn’t been able to reach Nick on his cell, he could have been reached this way.
Someone had purposefully left him out of the loop.
Not someone. Glinda. I’d bet my Craft on it.
Nick came dashing down the steps in his uniform. He tucked in his shirt and said, “Preliminary autopsy came in this morning on Kyle Chadwick. Something interesting showed up.”
“That he was paralyzed?” I asked.
Nick’s eyes widened. “He was what?”
“Paralyzed?”
“Wow,” Mimi said.
“You didn’t know?” I asked him. I thought for sure it was what he’d been about to tell me.
“No.”
“What were you going to say?”
“Prelim tests on the injection site came up positive for extremely high levels of morphine.”
“Is it what killed him?” I asked.
“It was certainly a fatal dosage, but everything is inconclusive right now until more tests are done. Paralyzed?”
I explained what Pepe had overheard. “Could Kyle have administered the fatal dose himself?” Maybe this was a suicide after all.
“No. With a dose like that there would have been no time to clean up the scene. We would have found the syringe still in his thigh. We didn’t find anything other than his body at Starla’s.”
“So he was . . . murdered?”
“That’s our working theory. Again, we need to—”
“Wait for the ME I know. Are these early autopsy results why Starla’s being questioned right now?”
Dark eyes blazed with fury. “Darcy, I have no idea why she’s being questioned. But I’m going to find out.”
Chapter Nineteen
Late that afternoon, I was in the kitchen at As You Wish with Ve and Harper and Marcus, watching Starla’s misery play out. She’d just returned from her daylong interrogation and it hadn’t gone too well.
I couldn’t help but wonder at Glinda’s motives for excluding Nick from Starla’s interrogation. Was there a power struggle going on within the force? Or was Glinda simply putting my friend through the wringer to hurt me? If that was the case, she had just declared all-out war.
Starla dropped her head into her hands. “I wish I were in the Bahamas. On a beach. With a pitcher of frozen margaritas. And not a care in the whole wide world.”
She could wish all she wanted—none of us could grant it.
I rubbed Starla’s back as Ve said, “The margaritas I can handle—the rest of it, though, not so much.”
“That’s okay, Ve,” Starla said. “I should probably keep a clear head. I feel like the police are going to be here any second now to arrest me.” She frowned. “On second thought, go ahead and whip up a batch. Who wants to be sober when arrested?”
“They’re not going to arrest you,” Harper said, helping Ve round up the margarita fixings.
There was a noise on the back porch and we all froze.
“See?” Starla said. “Here they are. At least there will be some humor when the photographer tries to get my mug shot and it comes out as nothing but white light.”
I smiled at the thought. When Harper had been arrested back in Ohio, the police eventually gave up on photographing her and brought in an artist to do a mug shot rendering. I shoved off the stool to see who was at the door. “It’s probably Nick and Mimi.” They were going to meet us here after Nick finished up at the station. It had been a long day for everyone.
I stepped down into the mudroom when suddenly there was a brisk knock and the back door flung open. Mimi came rushing in. “It’s snowing like crazy out there!” she said, doing a full body shiver to shake loose the snow that had accumulated on her hood and shoulders.
I glanced out the door, into the whiteout. A few inches had already settled on the pathways. “Where’s your dad?”
“He got a call on the way inside. I don’t know who it is, but”—she dropped her voice to a manly monotone—“he got very serious all of a sudden.”
“He’s probably rounding up the troops.” Starla glanced at Marcus. “Does the village police have troops?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “No.”
Missy danced around Mimi’s feet until she picked up the dog.
“Why do you keep saying they’re coming for you, Starla?” I asked, helping Mimi wiggle out of her coat. “What evidence do they have?”
“Yes,” Ve said, “spill!”
Starla groaned and dropped her head in her hands again.
We all looked at Marcus.
He said, “The police found a roll of duct tape in the Dumpster behind Starla’s brownstone. It was the same tape used on Kyle’s mouth. A strand of Starla’s hair was stuck to the adhesive.”
Starla moaned again. “Margarita?”
“I’m working on it, honey. Hold on,” Ve said, pouring tequila into the blender as fast as her fingers would go.
“Starla’s fingerprints were on the duct tape,” Marcus said, “but for good reason. The roll had probably originated from her house.”
“If that’s true,” Harper argued, “it’s entirely plausible her hair might be on it. Transference. They don’t know who threw the roll away.”
He smiled at her, and his eyes twinkled with love and affection. “Exactly. This so-called evidence is circumstantial at best.”
“Were there any other prints on the roll of duct tape?” I asked, hanging Mimi’s coat.
“No others,” he said. “Glinda jumped the gun a bit, pulling Starla in for questioning. But it’s the polygraph that didn’t go as well as planned.”
Starla groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“Polygraph?” I asked. “I thought you said no to that.”
“In light of the new evidence,” Marcus said, “and with Glinda Hansel eager to arrest Starla, we agreed to take one. Evan and Vince took one, too.”
“What were the results?” Mimi asked.
“We don’t know yet,” Marcus said.
Starla lifted her head. “But I know I didn’t do well. I couldn’t remember anything. It was embarrassing. Stupid sleeping spell. They’re going to be here any minute,” Starla said. “I’m telling you.”
“They wouldn’t arrest you. They don’t have conclusive evidence,” Ve said.
Marcus loosened his tie. “They might not need it if the prosecutor thinks there’s a case. Plus, Glinda seems to have a grudge against Starla.”
“Why?” Mimi asked, looking completely confused.
“The grudge isn’t with Starla,” I said. “It’s with me.” I explained about the Elder’s new mission for me and how it had upset Glinda.
Mimi frowned. She was a smart girl—she knew there was more to my rift with Glinda than met the eye.
“If only I could remember that night,” Starla moaned, gently thunking her head on the counter.
Rubbing her back, I glanced over my shoulder at the back door. Where was Nick? I wanted to know how Glinda explained not telling him about questioning Starla. Mimi wrung her hands. “What if you could .
. . remember?”
Ve said, “Time out, everybody!” and pressed the blender’s button. Ice cubes loudly turned to slush as the blades whirred. She pushed the STOP button and said, “Okay, go ahead.”
“What do you mean, Mimi?” Starla asked.
Color flooded Mimi’s cheeks. She glanced at me, then away. “What if there was a spell that makes you remember something? Would you use it?”
“Of course!” Starla said.
“Is there a memory spell?” Harper asked, looking between Mimi and Aunt Ve.
“I seem to recall there is,” Ve said, pouring drinks. “However, I don’t know it. I’m trying my best to forget my younger years.”
Mimi gulped, set Missy on the floor, and pulled a piece of paper out of her front pocket and smoothed it on the countertop.
I immediately recognized the writing on the sheet of paper as Melina’s and noted that the page had been neatly cut along its edge. I suddenly realized what it was. “Is this the missing page from your mom’s journal?”
Mimi pressed her lips together and nodded.
Harper picked up the page. “Yep, there’s a memory spell.”
“Why, Mimi?” I asked. “Why’d you take this out of the journal?”
Tears filled her brown eyes as she said, “I’m sorry! I know it was wrong to cut it out, but I didn’t want you to see it.”
“Why?” I asked.
Her voice clogged with emotion as she said, “Do you remember a few months ago when you drew my mom’s picture from my memories?”
I recalled. In a box in the garage I’d found an old sketchbook filled with uncompleted drawings of my mother. As Wishcrafters who couldn’t be photographed, drawings and paintings were the only visual images we had of one another. But Mimi had asked why none of my drawings were finished. I’d had to confess it was because I couldn’t remember my mother’s entire face. Just bits and pieces. When Mimi worried that the same would happen to her, that her memories of her mother would fade, I’d offered to draw Melina Sawyer. Mimi had sat next to me, her eyes bright with tears, while I sketched.
“How can you draw her when you never met her?”
Dust mites floated on the weak light coming through the window. “I don’t need to meet her. I’ve met you. You’re all I need.”
“Really?”
“It may take some trial and error, but I’m willing to put the effort in if you’re willing.”
“I’m willing!”
Time was lost as we sat together, piecing together an image of a woman I would never know, but to whom I’d always feel grateful. If not for her, her life, her Craft, Nick and Mimi would not be in my life.
The tears in Mimi’s eyes spilled over, and she suddenly bounded out of her chair and threw her arms around me. I set the pad down, settled her on my lap, and held her close.
“Thank you,” she said into my ear.
“You’re welcome,” I whispered.
“You . . . gave me back my mom.”
I could feel her tears seeping into the back of my shirt.
“No,” I said, rubbing her back. “I didn’t. Your mom’s always been with you, Mimi. You just shared her with me, that’s all.”
The memory brought tears to my eyes, even now. “I remember very well.”
“When I saw the spell in my mom’s diary and realized what it was, I decided I wanted to give it to you on your birthday. So you could finally remember your mom’s face. And draw her picture like you drew my mom’s picture. So you can see her every day and remember how much she loves you. I wanted the spell to be a surprise.” Taking a deep breath, she swallowed hard. “But . . . but right now I think Starla needs it more than you. I’m so sorry.”
I felt every eye in the kitchen looking at me. A tear slipped down my cheek as I pulled Mimi into a hug.
“You’re not mad?” Mimi asked softly.
“Not mad,” I murmured into her hair.
“A little tape,” Harper sniffled, “and this page will go back into the journal, no problem.” She joined in the hug.
Before I knew it, Ve and Starla had joined in as well, and Marcus stood off to the side until I pulled him in as well. Undoubtedly, he’d be family soon, too.
After a long minute, Starla said, “Can we try the spell now?”
Ve laughed. “Yes, let’s! And the margaritas are ready.”
“Okay,” Harper said. “It says here that the person without the memory needs to close their eyes and recite the spell three times while thinking about the time period you can’t remember.” She slid the journal entry toward Starla.
Starla’s hand shook as she picked it up and read silently for a moment. Her eyelids fluttered closed. Her voice was strong as she said, “Mind blank; Conscious spark; Lost memories; Return to me.” She repeated it twice more and went dead silent.
After a long moment, a teardrop slid down her cheek and dripped off her chin.
We all stood silently, waiting for her to say something. Finally, she blinked open her eyes and shook her head. In a coarse whisper, she said, “I saw him.”
“Kyle?” I asked.
“When he came into my room.” Another tear dropped. “Oh God.”
“What?” I asked.
Horrified, she looked at me. “I . . . I overreacted.”
“What do you mean?” Harper asked. “Overreacted about what?”
She shook her head. “I . . .” Her voice dropped away and she breathed deeply as though unable to pull in enough oxygen.
“It’s okay, dearie,” Ve said, rubbing her back. “Take your time with it.”
“Skip ahead, Starla. What about after the meeting in the bedroom?” Marcus asked. “Later that night? What did you see?”
“There’s nothing,” Starla said. “I was sleeping.”
I watched my friend carefully, wondering what she had seen in that memory of Kyle. I hoped she’d tell me when she was ready.
Starla sighed. “It was worth a try. Thanks, Mimi.”
Mimi reached for the journal page and glanced up at me. “Can you just pretend you never saw this?”
I smiled. “Deal.”
“Good,” she said, scooping up Missy again.
We all turned as the back door opened. Vince came in, followed closely by a grim-looking Nick.
Uh-oh.
“What’s wrong?” Mimi asked after one look at her dad’s face.
He stepped up beside me and took my hand. His gaze, however, turned to Starla.
“What is it?” Marcus asked.
Vince went and stood behind Starla, placing his hands on her shoulders. Her hands immediately came up to grip his, and I saw how his presence brought her comfort.
Nick squeezed my hand. “I just got off the phone with the prosecutor’s office. They think they have a strong enough case against Starla for us to arrest her.”
Starla asked, “You’re here to take me to jail, aren’t you?”
“You can’t!” Mimi cried.
Nick let go of my fingers and dragged his hand down his face.
“The evidence is circumstantial,” Marcus said sternly.
Vince’s voice cracked. “She’s innocent.” He’d gone deathly pale.
“I believe that,” Nick said. “I truly do. That’s why I talked the prosecutor into giving me a few more days to investigate.”
There was a collective exhale in the room.
Starla reached over and squeezed Nick’s hand. “Thank you.”
Nick said, “Don’t thank me yet. The prosecutor doesn’t just think that Starla is guilty. He thinks she colluded with Vince to kill Kyle. The theory is that Starla discovered Kyle’s hideout, made up the story about Kyle stalking her, and then killed him or had Vince kill him and carry him to her town house.”
“Why on earth would she put him in her own house?” Ve asked, her voice incredulous.
“Yes, why?” Starla cried.
“To throw off suspicion,” Nick said.
“What a bunch of bul—” Harper’s vo
ice dropped off as she looked at Mimi. “That’s ridiculous. What evidence do they have of this so-called collusion?”
“The polygraph tests,” Nick said. “Evan passed. . . .” His voice trailed off, yet his message was loud and clear.
Vince and Starla had not passed.
As if in slow motion, each of us turned to look at Vince. We knew why Starla hadn’t passed. Why hadn’t he?
He stammered, “I didn’t do it!”
Harper’s brown eyes narrowed. She looked like a beautiful angry elf. “Then why didn’t you pass the polygraph?”
A guilty flush crept up his neck. “I don’t know.”
Instantly, I knew he was lying. But why—and about what?
“Unfortunately,” Nick said. “I need Vince to come back with me to the station so I can ask him a few more questions to get his alibi straightened out. As for the prosecutor, I may have bought you two a couple of days,” Nick said to Starla and Vince, “but we’re running out of time. We need to figure out what happened to Kyle, and we need to do it soon.”
Chapter Twenty
“You okay?” Nick asked me later that night as we sat side by side on his sofa. “This movie usually makes you smile, not frown.”
We were trying our best to enjoy our date—the one that had already been postponed twice.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m distracted.”
He pressed his lips to my temple. “Starla?”
“Yes. And Kyle. And Vince. And Glinda.”
After being questioned, Vince returned to As You Wish and swept Starla off to a late dinner in the city. Ve had volunteered to keep Missy for me and entertain Evan, and Nick had arranged for Harper to watch both Mimi and Higgins for the night. Snow fell heavily—school had already been called off for the next day—and neither Nick nor I had anywhere to go.
We were blissfully alone.
I should have been smiling. The evening he’d planned, by any standards, had been just about perfect.
Nick had made a wonderful candlelit dinner for two. Dessert had been amazing. And Nick, who wasn’t all that fond of musicals, had volunteered to watch My Fair Lady.
That’s what we were doing now—watching the movie, our bodies pressed tightly against each other, our legs tangled, our hands clasped together.
The Goodbye Witch Page 17
