“Yeah, in the medicine cabinet in the bathr— No! No, I don’t have any.” She sprinted in front of me and held out her arms to the side to block my way.
I arched an eyebrow. “What is going on with you?”
“Sorry,” she said brightly. “I forgot I was out.”
Rubbing my temples, I said, “So you don’t have aspirin?”
“Nope. None.”
I studied her closely. “You don’t have someone up there, do you? Marcus, maybe?” I waggled my eyebrows.
Her cheeks flamed. “Marcus! Yes, yes. He’s up there. Naked as a jaybird.” She smiled brightly and shrugged. “You caught me. Busted.”
My eyes opened wide, I backed up and said, “Too much information, Harper. Too much information.”
She started humming “Afternoon Delight.”
Hmm. Years of experience told me that she was lying, but I didn’t know why. As I walked back to the eyeglass display I was about to prod and pry when I caught a glimpse of a man striding along one of the village green’s pathways. Will Chadwick.
I made a sudden decision and grabbed my coat. “I’m leaving. I’ll talk to you later!”
“Wait!”
“What?” I turned and caught the glasses she’d thrown at me.
“I extended the limited-time-only offer.”
“Thanks.” I tucked the glasses in my pocket.
“Why are you rushing off? What did you see?” She peered around me.
“I figured I’d leave you to your delight. Three’s a crowd, right?”
She flushed again. “Oh. Right.”
I laughed. “Actually, I need to see a man about a tree house.”
“And you call me the strange one?” she mumbled.
“That’s right.” Bells jangled as I headed out the door and across the street. Over my shoulder I looked back at Spellbound, then upward toward the twin windows of Harper’s apartment.
Huh. The flurries weren’t the only things dancing.
Aunt Ve and Godfrey were locked in an embrace, tangoing across the apartment, back and forth, back and forth.
Looked like Ve had found her dance partner. Terry wasn’t going to be happy with this turn of events.
There was no sign of Marcus at all.
Next thing I knew, Harper suddenly appeared, peering out at me. She smiled and waved and quickly pulled down each and every window shade.
Strange.
As a cold wind gusted, I suddenly remembered why I was out here in the first place.
Will Chadwick.
His long-legged gait was easy to spot on the opposite end of the green, and I set off at a run to catch up with him.
I dodged tourists and snowbanks, slowing briefly at the ice skating rink. Where this Kyle madness had begun.
My head pounded as I pressed on, determined to catch Will and ask him point-blank about Kyle’s supposed paralysis and if he’d been ill. My hope was that Will could fill in some blanks. A doctor’s name or something.
Cold stung my nose and fat snowflakes smacked me in the face as I followed the path. I could barely see Will ahead, crossing the street at the far end of the green. Drawing in a deep breath, I picked up my pace, breaking into a sprint.
I threw a glance left and right before I crossed the street and hurried down the shoveled sidewalk that led into one of the residential streets that surrounded the green.
Ahead, Will dashed up a set of stone steps, slipped a key into the lock on a brownstone, and went inside, closing the door firmly behind him. With a start, I realized the home wasn’t that far from Starla and Evan’s place, which was just around the corner.
When I finally made it to the walkway leading to the door, I bit my lip, wondering what to do. It was one thing to “accidentally” bump into Will on the green and ask him a question. Quite another to knock on the door and pepper him with questions.
I hemmed. I hawed. I wondered what the Elder would do. I mused about that for a second, and realized she wouldn’t be chasing him at all. She would have beckoned him to her.
Well, I didn’t quite have that power, so I finally worked up enough nerve to knock on the door, the hollow sound echoing down the quiet street.
No one answered.
Hmmph. I knew he was in there.
Was this his girlfriend’s house? The woman Pepe had heard him with? If he was trying to keep that relationship secret it might explain why he didn’t want to open the door.
I knocked harder, and after a long minute of staring at the closed door, I decided to just go. I couldn’t very well force Will to speak with me, and I couldn’t very well stand there all day. It was getting colder and the snow was starting to accumulate again. Abruptly, I turned and carefully navigated the steps, wondering if Will was watching me leave.
Let him.
He wasn’t the only brother I could pester for answers about Kyle.
Mr. Truthful himself, Liam Chadwick, owed me some explanations.
Chapter Twenty-three
I was debating when to track down Liam as I walked into the Gingerbread Shack. I still needed to check on Mrs. P. After that, though, I was going to find Liam and make him answer some questions.
Bells quieted as the door closed behind me, but no one was manning the front counter. The place appeared empty, but I could hear a muted conversation coming from the kitchen.
“I’ll be right with you,” Evan shouted just as a loud crash rang out. It sounded like a pan had fallen to the floor.
“It’s just me,” I called as I unwound my scarf and followed the delicious scent of chocolate and the sound of his voice. “Is everything okay back here?”
Suddenly, a flour-covered Evan appeared in the doorway separating the kitchen from the front of the shop. He set his arms on each side of the doorframe, much like Harper had done earlier. In a faux cheery voice, he said, “Darcy, I didn’t know you’d be stopping by!”
I put my hands on my hips. “What is going on?”
“What do you mean?” A flush crept up his throat. Naturally fair, his blush turned him beet red.
“First Harper, now you.” I peeked around him. “Who were you talking to? Don’t tell me you’ve got a naked Marcus in here, too.” I used air quotes around “naked Marcus.”
Confusion flashed across his eyes; then he smiled. “No, but I wouldn’t mind if I did. He’s kind of cute, don’t you think?”
He was trying to distract me. “Seriously, what’s going on? Who were you talking to?”
Suddenly a voice rose from near my feet. “It is just moi, ma chère.”
Pepe peered up at me, then motioned for me to follow him to a table. I glanced between him and Evan and reluctantly followed my familiar friend.
Pepe easily scrambled onto a chair, then leapt from its back to the tabletop. If a mortal customer ever saw him sitting there . . .
Evan disappeared back into the kitchen, and I heard a lot of slamming and cursing. “What’s he doing back there?” I asked Pepe.
“One of his cakes did not turn out so well,” he said, fussing with his vest. “Then, alas, it fell to the floor in a heap of chocolate and failure. I do believe he’s currently disposing of the remains.”
I wrinkled my nose. “A mishap like that isn’t supposed to happen to a Bakecrafter, is it?”
“Our friend,” Pepe said, twirling his whiskers, “is not quite himself these days.”
Leaning down, I looked straight into Pepe’s dark eyes. Blinking innocently, he smiled, his long front teeth sticking out from his mouth, which never failed to amuse me—and he knew it.
“Spill,” I said.
Letting out a sigh, he said, “I was instructing Evan on the fine art of the foxtrot. He’s a bit clumsy, hence the cake avalanche.”
I groaned. “Don’t tell me he’s participating in this silly dance competition.”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Evan said, coming out of the kitchen. He sat next to me. “But only if this business with Starla is settled by then. How is s
he this morning?”
I refused to even think about Evan doing a naked foxtrot. “Still sleeping.”
“I didn’t even hear her come in last night.”
“It was late,” I murmured, biting my tongue to keep from telling him about the spell. Hopefully Nick would call soon to give me an update on the case—and the okay to reveal the secrets I’d been keeping.
“I just saw Will Chadwick and was going to ask him about Kyle’s . . . paralysis, but he slipped into a brownstone and wouldn’t answer the door when I knocked. He had a key to the house,” I went on. “I was wondering if it’s his girlfriend’s place.” I rattled off the address. “It’s not that far from your place, Evan. Do you know who lives there?”
Evan looked confused again as he stood up. “It’s Will’s house.”
I tipped my head. “Will’s house? I thought he lived with Liam in the garage apartment at Wickedly Creative.”
“He used to. He moved about six months ago.”
“If he lives in the brownstone . . .” I glanced at Pepe. “Are you sure it was Will you heard with the woman at the apartment?”
Pepe rocked on his feet. “It was dark . . . I may have been mistaken. It may have been Liam.”
“Undoubtedly it was Liam,” Evan said with a smile.
“You’re so sure?” I asked.
“One hundred percent. Will wouldn’t be with a woman. He’s gay.”
Ha! No wonder George Chadwick had said that Will and Glinda weren’t each other’s type. Leaning down, I glared at Pepe.
Pepe shrugged. “I forgot. I’m old. Practically an antique.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I drew circles on the tabletop with the pads of my fingertips. So it had been Liam talking about Starla. . . . Hmm. This knowledge might help me question him. And so help me if he riddled his way out of answering.
I stood. “I should get going. Mrs. P is expecting me soon. Could I get a few treats to go?”
Evan nodded and headed for the display case filled with miniature desserts of every kind.
“I must go as well.” Pepe hopped down from the table and went to a certain floorboard. He lifted it and faced us. His voice turned somber. “I have much work to be done at the boutique before I conquer Eugenia in checkers this evening. Please tell her I look forward to the visit.”
I smiled. “I will.”
He bowed and hopped down the hole.
While Evan was distracted with filling my order, I hotfooted it to the kitchen and peeked inside. I wasn’t sure I completely bought Pepe’s foxtrot explanation, but nothing looked amiss back here except . . . something sparkled on the floor. I bent down and picked up a shiny clear crystal.
Evan came up behind me, plucked it out of my hand, and tossed it in his mouth. “Edible cake crystals. It’s amazing what can be made nowadays, isn’t it?”
My mouth dropped open. “Ew. That was on the floor.”
“My floor. It’s impeccable.” He quickly boxed up an assortment of Mrs. P’s favorite mini desserts.
“Hello,” I said. “Pepe was walking all over this floor. Haven’t you ever heard of the plague?”
“Are you inferring that Pepe carries the plague?” He laughed. “I can’t wait to tell him.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would. Just to see Pepe’s face. No one emotes indignation like Pepe.”
That was true. I headed for the door. Snow swirled. It should have been so peaceful, but instead I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that the storm was just beginning.
* * *
I was on my way to the Pixie Cottage and not too far from Nick and Mimi’s house when a golden retriever puppy bounded down the sidewalk, galloping toward me on paws too big for its small frame.
Quickly, I glanced around for its owner before I bent and scooped it up. I didn’t see anyone around, but as the dog bathed my chin in sloppy kisses, I noticed a tag hanging from a loose blue collar.
His name was Clarence, and there was a phone number listed as well.
“Aren’t you the cutest thing I’ve seen all day,” I cooed to him. “Don’t tell my cat Tilda that, though. She might go back to upchucking on my bed every day.” He continued to lick my face. “Where do you live, hmm? Someone’s probably missing you right about now.” The streets weren’t too busy today, but it was still dangerous for a puppy to be running loose. “Are you an escape artist like Missy?”
He didn’t answer. Just kept licking my face.
Smiling, I juggled Clarence with one arm and fumbled for my cell phone to dial his owner. Just as I’d punched in the number and listened to the first ring, I heard a woman call out, “Clarence!”
Looking around, I groaned. “Say it isn’t so.”
Glinda half jogged, half limped toward us, not seeming to care that she was wearing slippers and not proper shoes on the snow. Bunny slippers at that.
“Clarence!” she cried.
My stomach sank clear down to my toes as I looked into the pup’s dewy eyes. “You belong to Glinda?”
His rear end swished as he wagged his tail.
“You’re too cute to belong to her.”
He didn’t seem to agree as he kept wagging and trying to lick me.
Glinda’s eyes zeroed in on me, and I wished more than anything that I could suddenly disappear. She slowly approached, a bathrobe tied tightly around her waist, her nightgown hanging just below the robe’s hem.
Her gaze settled the squirming puppy in my arms, but I could practically feel the daggers being thrown my way. I wanted to take the puppy and run, but, resolved, I walked toward her, a bit like a felon being led to the gallows.
“What are you doing with my dog?” she asked as she limped toward me.
“When did you get a dog?”
“It’s a friend’s dog. Not that it’s any of your business.” She reached for him.
I couldn’t help myself. “I’m pretty sure that as an officer of the village you know about the leash law.”
Clarence went willingly into Glinda’s arms—losing some of his cute factor in the process—and Glinda growled at me. “Go away.”
“Gee,” I said, trying to hide a smile. “You’re welcome that I found the dog you lost and saved him before he got hit by a car.”
“Thanks,” she said through clenched teeth.
It was then—as she glared at me—that I noticed she’d been crying. Her eyes were red and swollen and the more I studied her the more I realized she looked horrible.
It was a first.
She must be taking her suspension hard. I felt a pang of sympathy for her, even though she didn’t deserve it. “You’re welcome.”
With a huff, she turned and hobbled away.
I watched her go for a moment before continuing on to the Pixie Cottage. A few minutes later, I was stomping my feet on the welcome mat, trying to shake loose clinging snow.
At the registration desk, Harmony gave me a glum smile.
“How’s Mrs. P holding up?” I asked.
“About the same.” Harmony’s long wild hair had been pulled back in a loose ponytail. “Except now she’s not eating very much. A piece of toast is all she would take this morning.”
My heart sank. It had been only a few days since I learned Mrs. P had heart trouble and now it seemed as though she was failing fast.
“I also think she’s hallucinating. Whenever I pass her room, I hear her talking to herself. And once, she was playing a game of poker . . . alone.”
I held back a smile. I didn’t have one hundred percent confirmation, but I was pretty sure Harmony was a mortal. Undoubtedly Pepe would take cover whenever she was near. “I’m sure she’s just amusing herself.”
“Maybe,” Harmony said, sounding like she didn’t believe that theory for a moment. “Let me know if she needs anything. A snack, tea . . .”
“I will.”
I headed down the hallway and gently knocked on the door to Mrs. P’s room. I let out a breath of relief when I heard her shout out, “Come
in!”
I opened the door and found her sitting at her dressing table carefully gluing on false eyelashes.
In awe, I sat on a velvet-tufted settee and watched the process.
“What is this nonsense,” she said right off the bat, “about Vince being considered a murder suspect again? Despite his shortcomings, he is not the homicidal type.”
Mrs. P appeared to be a bit more energetic than she had been yesterday, but despite the layers of blush artfully applied to her high cheekbones, she still looked pale. Her hair, usually sprayed into spiky points, had been tucked inside a satin turban and I had the feeling the style had more to do with Mrs. P not having the strength to do her hair than any kind of fashion statement.
“I don’t think he is either.” I adjusted a bolster pillow. “However, the prosecutor believes people can do crazy things in the name of love.” Which was entirely true. I just didn’t believe it was what was going on in this particular case.
I also had to wonder what the prosecutor thought of the new evidence. How long would it take Nick to call and give me an update? The waiting was starting to weigh on me.
Mrs. P spun around, her eyes bright. “Isn’t it wonderful? He is in love, isn’t he?”
She was a sucker for a good romance, and for some reason she had a soft spot for Vince. He’d certainly grown on her while she’d been working for him.
“I’d say so.”
“And Starla? She feels the same?” Mrs. P asked. “Are there wedding bells in their future?”
I preferred that thought over jail cells. “I don’t know. I think she’s scared to love again. To openly love again.” My heart ached as I recalled how she spoke about Kyle last night.
“I don’t blame the girl.” Mrs. P spun back to the mirror. “Not one little bit.”
None of us did.
“She’s not going to be able to move on,” Mrs. P said, “until this Kyle business is wrapped up.”
“Nick’s going to be offering the Chadwick family immunity in exchange for information on Kyle.”
“And?” she said, narrowing her eyes. “That bothers you?”
She knew me too well. “I just feel like someone needs to pay for putting Starla through hell these past two years.”
The Goodbye Witch Page 20
