I fought off a yawn. I’d spent most of the night at the Pixie Cottage, getting the pants beat off me in gin rummy. Mrs. P was . . . failing. It was the only way to describe it. I’d tried to focus all my attention on her, but I kept turning around and around my talk with the Elder. I was still confused why only two of Kyle’s wounds were visible, and if they, like the duct tape, were some sort of message. But now I also wondered when he’d received the wounds. Before he died. Or after.
I glanced at Starla. I wasn’t going to rush her, but I was very curious as to what was going through her mind. A few times I’d seen the funeral director peek out the door at us. I’d called him earlier to tell him we’d be stopping by. He promised to have everything ready for Starla to spend a few minutes with Kyle.
After a few more minutes, she finally said, “I’m sorry. I know we should go in, but I can’t quite bring myself to.”
Shifting to face her, I said, “Do you want to go home?”
Her lip quirked into what should have been a smile but looked slightly manic. “Where’s that, Darcy? My home . . .” She shook her head. “I have to move. Evan’s already started looking for new places for us. I can’t live there knowing that’s where Kyle died.”
“That’s understandable.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Is it? Because it seems kind of foolish when I start thinking hard about it. Packing everything up, putting the house on the market, finding another place. We’ll probably lose money on the deal because I’m ready to sell it to the first person who offers, no matter how low the bid, and that seems silly in light of all Evan’s and my hard work to buy the house in the first place.”
“If walking through that front door every day is going to bring back bad memories, then it’s time to sell. Your peace of mind is too important.”
A flush reddened her cheeks. “That’s what Evan said, too.” Letting out a frustrated huff, she added, “I don’t know how to feel. Sadness, anger, confusion . . . all these emotions are just jumbled up inside.”
“Oh, Starla. They’ll unjumble over time.”
Watery eyes glanced at me. “Is unjumble a word?”
“It is now.”
Releasing a gusty exhale, she leaned back in her seat. After a few seconds, she said, “We should go inside before others start arriving.”
I had to ask again. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I have to do it. I have some things I need to say, and I need to give these back to him.” She unfurled her fist to reveal her and Kyle’s gold wedding bands in the palm of her hand, glinting in the emerging sunlight.
“Both of them?” He’d gone to so much trouble to give them to her.
“I think they should be buried with him.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “That way a little piece of me will always be with him. A good piece. The day he put that ring on my finger was the happiest of my whole life. That’s what I want to remember. That’s what I want for him to take with him. I think that’s why he gave them to me. But I don’t need these to remember that day. I have it here.” She thumped her chest over her heart.
Unshed tears stung my eyes, my nose. “Okay.”
“Let’s go in.” Pushing open the door, she quickly slammed it shut behind her and hustled to the front steps of the funeral home without waiting for me. It was as though once she finally made up her mind to go inside she didn’t want to slow down for fear of having a change of heart.
I turned off the car and sprinted after her, catching up just as the funeral director came to a stop in front of one of the viewing rooms. He excused himself and quietly disappeared down the hallway, leaving us alone.
Well, mostly alone. I caught a glimpse of an open casket and touched Starla on the arm. “I’ll wait out here for you,” I said, wanting to give her privacy.
Looking as fragile as I’d ever seen her, she nodded and stepped into the room.
I pressed my back to the wall and stared down at the carpeting, my gaze tracing its intricate pattern. When I heard Starla’s voice, I peeked into the room and saw her seated on a folding chair next to the casket. She looked to be having a conversation with Kyle while continually wiping tears from her eyes.
I bit my lip and decided pacing the halls would be a better use of my time.
I’d been pacing for a good fifteen minutes when I heard someone say my name.
“Darcy. What a surprise.” Cora Chadwick approached me slowly.
Quickly, I explained about accompanying Starla.
Cora’s hand flew to her mouth. “She came?”
I said, “She wanted to say good-bye.”
Cora nodded. Grief had aged her these past few days, deepening the lines around her eyes, her mouth. “I’m glad. I feared she wouldn’t.”
I had so many questions to ask Cora, but I couldn’t bring myself to voice them. Not here, not like this. Today she was a mother burying her son. There would be time enough for questions later.
“How long has she been with him?” Cora asked, glancing down the hallway.
I glanced at a wall clock. “About twenty minutes.”
Looking over her shoulder at the parking lot, she said, “Others will be arriving soon.”
“I’ll let Starla know.” I turned but stopped when I felt a hand on my arm.
Cora said, “Let me go. There’re some things I want to speak to Starla about.”
“I’m not sure this is the best time. . . .”
“It is,” Cora said firmly, giving me a kind smile.
She walked down the hallway and stepped into the viewing room. As much as I wanted to eavesdrop, I refrained. As I passed a window, I noticed a car pull into the lot and park next to mine.
Liam, Will, and George.
Fabulous.
I tried to blend in with the striped wallpaper as the three entered. One by one, they noticed me, and one by one, each of their grim faces turned dark and stormy.
I silently hoped Starla would wrap up her visit soon, but I’d never actually ask her to. She needed this time, and if that meant that I had to tolerate the Chadwicks, then I would.
“What are you doing here?” Liam said.
“I came with Starla.”
All three heads snapped toward the viewing room. They seemed to do everything in tandem.
“I’m surprised she came.” Will tugged a cap off his head, releasing a plume of blond hair. It fluffed out around his face, making him look somewhat angelic.
False advertising, I decided.
I wasn’t about to defend Starla’s reasoning, so I shrugged and began to pace again.
When Liam stepped toward the viewing room, as though planning to interrupt Starla’s time with Kyle, I reached out and grabbed his arm. “Leave her be.”
He glared at my hand. “Let me go.”
My temper spiked. “You all had your chance to say good-bye to him. Let her have hers.” I let go of his arm.
“We don’t know what you mean. Chief Sawyer only shared the autopsy results with us this morning,” George said, rocking on his heels.
I could feel my face heating as I said, “Look, I don’t know what happened to Kyle exactly—not yet at least—but I can’t stand here while you pretend you didn’t know he was ill.” I pointed at Liam. “You let him use your ID for health insurance, and you”—I motioned to Will—“accompanied him to doctors’ appointments. I’m sure the oncologist can ID you well enough. So just drop the act. I can’t stomach it today. My best friend just learned that she’s been living a lie for two years—a lie no one bothered to correct—and that the man who she loved more than life itself—” I broke off, too choked up to go on.
Anger darkened Liam’s eyes. “She should have known something was wrong.”
I gathered my composure as best I could. “Did you know something was wrong?”
“I wasn’t married to him,” he said.
“No, you were his brother. His flesh and blood. His twin.”
He kept his voice low as he spat, “Don’t try and
turn this around on me, Darcy.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Then don’t try to act like this was Starla’s fault. It only makes you look ignorant. You all may want to gloss over it, but the fact is he hurt her. Just because he had an excuse as to why it happened doesn’t change the fact that he almost killed her. She’s as much a victim in this as all of you are. Including Kyle.”
“Stop it,” George said, stepping between us. “This is not what Kyle would have wanted.”
I stepped back, folding my arms over my chest.
George looked between his sons, then said, “About six months after Kyle broke out of jail, he had a seizure.”
“Dad,” Will began.
George held up his hand. “Enough is enough. I’m tired of the deception. Will took Kyle to the hospital, and Kyle received the devastating diagnosis. He didn’t want Starla to know. He felt as though he’d hurt her enough—he didn’t want her to have to watch him die. He thought it was best that way. We all took turns caring for him. He talked about seeing Starla one last time to give her back his wedding band, but we didn’t know he actually had the ability to do it until all hell broke loose last Friday.”
What he said rang true, especially the part about the spell. They’d all been so vehement that it was impossible for Kyle to have been stalking Starla.
“Which one of you broke into the police station to get the wedding band?” I asked.
None of them said anything.
“The same person who broke him out of jail in the first place?”
Still nothing.
“Fine, which one of you framed Starla for his death?” I asked, narrowing my gaze on Liam.
“None of us,” George said. “We . . . we don’t know what happened to him and don’t know how he got to Starla’s house.”
What did I expect? Harboring a fugitive was far less a crime than a mercy killing. I shook my head. “Right.”
I was saved from more lies by the sound of a car door slamming.
We all glanced out. Glinda Hansel had arrived.
My word. Could this day get any worse?
She’d managed to change out of her robe, opting for a tea-length black dress, black tights, and had swapped slippers for heels. Gripping the neckline of the capelet she wore, she limped her way up the steps of the funeral home.
As she walked into the lobby, she saw Will first and said, “I brought Kyle’s watch.” She held it out for him to take. Then she must have realized everyone was acting strangely, because she looked from face to face.
When she got to mine, I smiled and scrunched my nose. “Hello,” I said cheerily.
Handing the watch to Will, she glared at me. She was back to looking gorgeous. Perfect hair, perfect makeup. I was actually glad to see her looking more herself, though I couldn’t understand why I cared.
“What are you doing here?” she fumed.
“You all make me feel so welcome,” I said. “Really, it’s like a big hug.”
Glinda opened her mouth, then suddenly snapped it closed again. She stared over my shoulder.
Cora and Starla stood in the hallway. Both had tear-streaked faces, and Cora had her arm around Starla as they came toward us.
Awkward, party of seven.
Cora finally broke the ice saying, “I think we all will live with regrets for what has happened these past couple of years and wonder what life would have been like had we known Kyle was so ill.”
Ah, Starla must have been hearing the same speech George had just given me.
“No matter how much we’d like to, we cannot change what has been done,” Cora said. “However, we can change how we go forward. Forgive and never forget that Kyle would want us all to be happy and move forward and mend what’s been broken.”
“Come on,” Liam said angrily, grabbing Will’s arm. “I’ve heard enough.”
Glinda hobbled after them.
With a depth of sadness in her eyes, Cora stepped next to her husband and watched her sons stride down the hallway toward the viewing room. She patted Starla’s arm but didn’t say anything about the brothers’ behavior.
“We should go,” Starla said to me.
Studying her, I saw that she looked a little bit . . . lighter. As though some sort of weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Apparently speaking to Kyle had been the best thing for her right now.
Cora gave her a gentle hug. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”
In the car, Starla slipped on a pair of sunglasses and looked out the side window. Her body language clearly said that she didn’t want to talk, so I let her be.
I didn’t need to fix everything.
I checked my phone for messages and saw that Nick had tried to call three times. A voice mail just told me to call him as soon as I could. My pulse kicked up a notch. He must have news.
“You know what’s kind of ironic?” Starla asked.
“What’s that?”
“Cora said Kyle didn’t want me to see him ill. It’s probably why he used the Mirage Spell when he visited me, to cover how his cancer had changed his looks.” She shifted to face me. “Yet, the spell wore off, and in his casket he looked . . . ravaged.”
I gripped my car keys so tightly they cut into the skin of my palm. I didn’t know if that was irony or just some strange twist of fate.
“So basically,” she said, “he put me through two years of misery for nothing.”
And with that, she didn’t say another word the whole way home.
Chapter Thirty-two
I dropped Starla at As You Wish and called Nick as I took a long, slow walk over to see Mrs. P.
“Sorry,” I said when he answered. “I was at the funeral home with Starla.”
“The funeral home?”
“Oh yeah,” I said wryly. “It was all kinds of good times.”
“I can imagine.”
I wished there was something I could do for Starla, but at this point, I figured only time could help her heal. I needed to tell Nick about my conversation with the Chadwicks, but wanted to know why he needed to talk with me so badly. My curiosity was killing me. “You called?”
I heard him let out a sigh. “The ME’s office called.”
“And?”
“The cause of death is in. Darcy, Kyle died of natural causes. Basically, his tumor grew into the part of his brain that controlled respiration. He simply stopped breathing.”
I leaned against a lamppost. “What? What about the injection?”
“It was determined that the injection was delivered postmortem. The morphine never made it into his bloodstream.”
I let that sink in. “After death?”
The Elder had planted the seed that the injection could have been after Kyle died, but I still couldn’t figure out why. “Why?”
“Someone obviously wanted us to believe he was murdered.”
“Someone was trying to frame Starla, not to cover up a mercy killing, but out of . . . what? Spite?”
“It seems that way, yes.”
My anger skipped simmer and went straight to boil. I could easily picture Liam earlier at the funeral home.
She should have known something was wrong.
Liam blamed Starla for his brother’s death, so why wouldn’t he take it a step forward and frame her?
Foul is fair.
“Liam,” I bit out, explaining the confrontation in the funeral home.
“I’m going to wait until Kyle’s funeral is over, then question his family again. And, yes, especially Liam.”
“He can’t get away with it, can he? Did he tamper with a body? Hinder an investigation? Something?”
His voice softened. “Yes, something. Don’t worry, Darcy. I’ll take care of it. You think you can stop by? I want to make sure I understand the Craft facets of this case before I talk to the family again.”
I glanced at the Pixie Cottage. “I’m just about to check on Mrs. P, but as soon as I’m done there, I’ll be over.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
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I hung up and slipped my phone in my pocket. All around me, I tried to take in the beauty of the village. To find the good in the bad.
But try as I might, right now all I could see was the bad.
* * *
A few minutes later, I stood in the hallway outside Mrs. P’s room. I drew in a deep breath, gathered what little composure I had left, and knocked gently. “It’s Darcy.”
A soft “Come in” floated through the door.
I slipped inside and found Cherise sitting near the fireplace, glued to her smartphone. She gave me a sad smile as I came in.
My gaze zipped to the bed where I found Mrs. P with her eyes closed. Pepe sat next to her shoulder and was reading to her from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, his French accent charmingly endearing.
He nodded at my presence and kept on reading.
I crept over to the bed and pressed a kiss to the top of Mrs. P’s head, which was still covered in a pink turban wrap. She looked so frail that it nearly broke my heart straight in half. I was pleased to see she still wore her beloved makeup and had the feeling someone had helped her apply it—her fake eyelashes were on straight.
Cherise set her phone on the coffee table, and as she crossed her ankles, she kicked the medical bag on the floor. It toppled onto its side, the contents spilling out.
She laughed softly and said, “You can’t take me anywhere. How is Starla?”
I helped her scoop items back into the bag. “I think she’s going through emotional whiplash. She went from hating Kyle, fearing him, to being sad for him. Sad for herself. She’s filled with regrets and just a touch of anger.”
“Understandable, no?”
“Definitely.” I handed her a blood pressure cuff. “On top of that, she’s also dealing with her feelings for Vince.”
Cherise tsked. “It seems too much for one to bear, but Starla is strong. She’ll find her way.”
I hoped she was right. I reached for an EpiPen, but it rolled out of my grasp, under the settee.
As I crouched to retrieve it, I had such a flash of déjà vu that I gasped.
“Darcy?”
“Do you have a syringe?” I asked in a rush.
Her eyebrows dipped. “Of course. Why?”
The Goodbye Witch Page 25
