The Witch's Beauty (A Cozy Witch Mystery)

by Kincaid, Iris

  “That, Ms. Piper, is exactly what I was going to ask you. Do you know who might’ve done this? You knew her for two years. Did she have enemies? Rivals? Grudges?”

  Lorna thought it was time to pipe in. “I think there was quite a bit of gossip in your club about Stella’s book, Lobster Bay, After Hours, and who the real-life Oyster Cove residents were that she based her characters on.” She turned to Finn. “Stella’s first book was kind of a tell-all. It was full of marital affairs and scandalous episodes, all based on real people, and she used their real initials. There were a lot of consequences. Someone alluded to in her book got so mad at Stella that she threw some cold coffee in her face and had to be barred from the library for a year.”

  “Yes, our discussions often degenerated into tawdry local gossip. I feel sorry for the people she mentioned, I really do. She describes their lives in such detail, and that alone would be enough to identify most of them. But it was unnecessary, I think, to shame them by using their initials as well. But the other members of the book club enjoyed the gossip. Our membership went out from fifteen to thirty-six, largely due to Stella’s appeal. And I can only be grateful for anything that makes people more enthusiastic about reading. I know that everyone is going to want to attend the memorial.”

  “Can you give me a list of all the characters in the book and a matching list of who in Oyster Cove they stand for?”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. As I recall, there were only two names that our book club couldn’t account for, the mystery initials WS and RS. Stella would just laugh when they begged her for details. “Figure it out yourself,” she’d say. I think she knew that the mystery of it would help the book sales.”

  “About how long do you think it will take for you to work out that list?” Finn prodded.

  “Just a couple of days, I would imagine.”

  “Also, I wouldn’t mind talking to the club. Would that be all right?”

  “Oh, I know they’d be happy to provide assistance for Stella in any way possible. We meet tomorrow night at seven PM, downstairs in the conference room.”

  “I appreciate your help. Now, unfortunately, it looks like I have a book to read.”

  “I’ll help you find a copy,” Lorna said.

  Finn hunkered down in a comfy leather chair and ottoman, reading Stella Kirby’s tell-all. Lorna took the opportunity to chat with her coworkers and to pick up Bella, whom they had been happy to babysit for the day.

  There was still a cloud of doom hanging over the library. No excited chatter about museum excursions or Downton Abbey binge weekends. Not only had the number of people coming into the library dropped down to a low trickle, but there was still the uneasy specter that one of their own had been involved in the murder—Miles Weston being the primary suspect.

  “It was his day off, the day Stella was murdered,” Melody recalled. “But that’s not when the poisoning would’ve happened, would it? The poison had to be in place sometime the day before. And that’s when he was working. He would have been the one who picked up the stray books the night before and re-shelved them. I hate to think about it, but what if . . .?”

  “People have started driving twenty minutes away to go to the next nearest library,” someone groused quietly. “No one wants to take a chance on thumbing through books and running into some poison. It’s reading, not skydiving. Not drag-racing. People are scared to come here now. We’re probably going to lose a lot of funding if our numbers don’t get back up.”

  At least one handsome fellow had braved the risks of entering the library. He sidled up to Lorna with a big smile.

  “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know a good place near here grab a cup of coffee, would you?”

  “There’s a very good café just half a block from here, same side of the street,” Lorna said. “Excellent pastries too.”

  “Well, I’m ever so grateful for your insight. Perhaps you’d allow me to thank you with a nice cup of coffee and an excellent pastry?”

  Lorna walked right into that one. But he was sweet enough, and very easy on the eyes. “I think I might be free right now. Why not?”

  As Lorna turned to say goodbye to her friend Melody, she couldn’t help but notice that she and several others, men and women, were looking at her enviously, wistfully. Being the repeated object of romantic interest would never be more than a fantasy for them. They could only vicariously soak up Lorna’s newfound popularity and its promise of love to come.

  Lorna could see their thoughts as clearly as if they were spoken aloud. But she didn’t want to leave her friends behind on this new journey. She wanted them to be happy too.

  *****

  It was Delphine’s first time in Lorna’s home. She admired the bouquet that she had given Lorna. “Mark my words. Not a single petal will fall off this bouquet.”

  Bella was leaping all over Delphine’s feet, trying to get her attention, and Delphine finally had to pick her up. “For a sickly little thing, she has no shortage of energy. She’ll do very nicely as a familiar.”

  “What exactly is a familiar?”

  “An animal companion whose very presence will concentrate and focus your abilities.”

  “And do I have abilities? Aside from being pretty and blooming flowers?”

  “Beauty has special sway over emotion, most particularly, love. I recall Lilith casting many a love spell, for one mischievous reason or another. That is an area in which you will excel. Also . . . well, there will be time enough to teach you that later.”

  “What is it? Tell me.”

  “Beauty has the power to fill up the mind of the beholder and to displace weaker preoccupations. You can make a person forget, in a very specific way. It is a great power, and it can be used irresponsibly and cruelly.”

  “It is a fabulous power,” Lilith interjected. “I made many a man forget that he had a wife at home. And when he started to bore me, I made him forget that we’d ever met. Otherwise, it’s too easy for them to hang around like lovesick puppies and make pests of themselves. Not to mention, how many traffic officers I made forget why they had stopped me. It can do away with so many of life’s tedious irritations. Do not discourage her from using it.”

  “Lorna Sinclair is going to be operating from an entirely different moral code. I doubt she’ll find occasion to use this talent as frequently as yourself. Now, Lilith, if you don’t mind, you know she must become engaged in this new life in a manner that feels comfortable to her. She will grow and evolve from there.”

  “As always, you drag your feet. Well, go on. Teach her something.”

  “So I can give someone amnesia? That sounds kind of mean. No one wants to forget their memories. I don’t think I’ll have much use for that. But love spells! Can I use them for someone else? For my friends at work? I think they want love and romance as much as I do, but most of them won’t admit it. We all want someone, don’t we? You told me that I was going to find someone. I just want the same for them. Is there anything I can do?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  As a senior employee, Lorna had the keys to open the library. In order to avoid being seen, she came at six AM and avoided turning on the lights. But she knew the layout by heart, and it was easy enough to make her way up the stairs and to the entrance of the employee office. Everyone who worked at the library had an employee mail slot in there. Everyone had to pass through that doorway, sooner or later.

  Lorna draped Bella over her shoulder. If this kitten could help her in any way, now was the time. Lorna ran her hands along the door and its frame. “Objects of affection, at long last, all who enter will hear the words of love, the sighs of love, the heat of love, released.”

  She felt strangely energized. Was that just hopefulness? Bella’s eyes glowed with intensity. Could it possibly have worked? She was going to have to stop by later in the day to see. She couldn’t wait.

  *****

  That morning, there was quite a large a social gathering at Stella Kirby’s house. Finn and two othe
r officers, including a crime scene specialist, plus Daisy, Shane the techie, intent on retrieving his thermos, as well as Lorna and Bella.

  Daisy had said that the house was almost Hoarders worthy. It wasn’t quite that bad, but there was very little floor space to maneuver around, no surface area that wasn’t piled high with objects spilling to the ground, as were all the chairs and sofas—just piles of books and papers, and several decades’ worth of the kind of junk that you couldn’t even give away at a yard sale.

  Daisy grimaced. “I get a migraine just thinking about clearing this space out. I’d rather just hire a bulldozer and raze it to the ground.”

  “If you really have no need for it, donate to charity,” Lorna suggested. “I’m sure some group could make use of it.”

  “Good idea. The only thing I actually need here is to find a few photos for the memorial service. Oh good, she’s got some on the mantle.”

  Daisy gingerly made her way to the other side of the room and came back clutching a couple of framed photographs. She showed one of them to Lorna. It was a very old photograph of two young women in a very stiff and formal pose that looked as if it came from the early 1960s.

  “Here she is with her sister, Mina. I suppose I could just crop the photo to get a picture of her alone.”

  “You don’t have to mess up that old picture,” Shane chimed in helpfully. “Just scan it, and then you could do all the cropping you want.”

  Finn shook his head at the jaw-dropping volume of Stella’s possessions. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many books in my life. Except in the library.”

  Lorna picked up a book. “Hmmph. This is one of ours. So is this one. So is this one. It looks like . . . this whole row is from our library. And these here. And these here. We do have a limit of thirty books checked out at the library at any given time. I get the impression that most of these books—maybe all of them—were never checked out. Geez. This is going to clear up a lot of our ‘missing books’ list.”

  “So, you’re saying that Stella was a very bad girl.”

  “I’m saying that the book that was poisoned . . . we just assume that it never left the library because it had never been checked out. But seeing this, it could easily have been something that she took home and carried back and forth. She could have had it here. The poisoning could have happened here.”

  Finn nodded in agreement. “Joe. Give me two more CSIs over here. Shane . . . where’s Shane?”

  Shane came scrambling down the stairs, clutching his prized super thermos.

  “Okay, Shane, you and Ms. Kirby—it’s probably best if you clear out right now and let us do our thing.” He looked at Lorna. “And you . . . stop touching those books until they’ve been cleared for poison. Boy, oh boy, between reading Stella’s book and digging through this house, I’m going to be the one with a migraine.”

  “Should I call over to the library and confirm whether the books were checked out?” Lorna asked.

  “Okay, but Joe, can we get some gloves on her, please?”

  With very official crime scene gloves on, Lorna proceeded to call the library’s help desk. The first thing she heard on the other end of the line was uncontrollable giggling.

  “That’s the silliest thing I ever heard. Now leave me alone so I can get some work done,” a woman’s voice said.

  “Susan, is that you? This is Lorna. Could you check on some books for me? I need to see if they’re checked out.”

  “Sure thing. Just read out the call numbers.”

  “I’d like to call your number. Why don’t you give it to me?” a persistently flirtatious male voice interjected, obviously standing very close to Susan.

  Which prompted more giggling from Susan. Lorna gasped. The love spell! What was going on over there? She had to get over and see for herself.

  “Officer Cochran. They don’t appear to be checked out. Will you be needing me anymore today?”

  “Nah. But I need you to make the rounds with me, just as soon as I’m done with this book. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

  “Great. I’ll be over at the library.”

  “You already arranged for a few days off. You must really love your job.”

  “I really ought to go over and check my inbox.” And by inbox, I mean love spell.

  *****

  Susan was standing outside the entrance, laughing and having a fine time with her deep voiced admirer, who was exhorting her to play hooky.

  “You should totally call in sick. We could spend the day on my boat. Kind of a little staycation. It’s obvious you work way too hard. Live a little,” he wheedled.

  Susan look like she was in seventh heaven. Lorna was quite pleased for her. But if Susan was out here, then who was at the desk?

  No one. No one was at the desk! Although Lorna could hear sounds of life coming from the room behind the reception area. Perhaps Susan had passed the baton to someone back there and they were simply putting something away, or some other really good explanation for leaving the desk unattended.

  What she found was Miles giving a grandiose tour to a quiet, bookish young woman in her late twenties, who was hanging onto his every word.

  Lorna hated to interrupt this promising encounter. “Miles, do you know who’s supposed to be at the front desk?”

  “Oh, that’s probably me. But Harriet here has always wanted to know what it looks like in our control center. She’s thinking about switching over to library science.”

  “I was thinking about being a paralegal. But I think the environment of the library will be so much more . . . stimulating and appealing.”

  Miles blushed at the implied compliment.

  “Okay, well, get out as soon as you can. Just in case someone needs anything,” Lorna suggested gently.

  As she headed for the stairs, she saw a man whom she recognized as one of the café managers down the street, off in a corner with her supervisor, arm around her waist and whispering something in her ear that was putting her in a very good mood.

  There was so much unusual activity going on, but one remarkable sight really stopped Lorna in her tracks. Wheelchair-bound Mickey Woodward was tenderly holding the hand of Norma Wilson, an elderly librarian who kept announcing her retirement, year after year, and then kept changing her mind. She and Mickey were gazing at one another with unmistakable fondness.

  “Oh, Lorna. Do you think I might be able to get a few days off next week? I know it’s short notice, but Mickey and I were thinking of taking a little weekend getaway. There are some really good chartered bus tours that are wheelchair-accessible,” Norma gushed.

  “Wow! Next week. That’s very . . . quick.”

  Mickey scoffed. “Do we look like we have all the time in the world? Now, be a good girl and make it happen.”

  As Lorna climbed up the stairs, she recalled with frustration that this was Melody’s day off work. She so wanted her good buddy to be here to enjoy this heady environment of romance. Ah well, Melody would be back soon enough.

  Upstairs in the back office, Lorna was finally able to confirm that two of her colleagues, Vicky and Raymond, had long had an unspoken crush on one another. They were now snugly holed up in Vicky’s cubicle, kissing and canoodling like teenagers in a parked car. And to think that they might still be treating one another as platonic friends. That was an accomplishment that had Lorna smiling for the rest of the day.

  Now she could go on her own date that evening, happy in the knowledge that she was able to share some of her good fortune.

  *****

  Lorna had tried to talk her date out of his choice of Oyster Cove’s most expensive restaurant The Louvre. But her exquisitely dressed date, Scott Houston had argued, what’s more romantic than fine French cuisine? As it turned out, food was only the tip of the iceberg in his connoisseurship—although that alone included strong opinions on wine, chocolate, cheese, and olive oil. He was also something of a fashionista.

  “That is a stunning dress. Although you would obviously
look good in a burlap sack. What is it? Dior? Yves San Laurent?”

  It was a very new dress that had to be hastily purchased when Lorna found out she was going to such a fancy place. But since she didn’t intend to be going to many fancy places in the near future, she hadn’t wanted to make a big investment. And Yves San Laurent cannot be had for thirty dollars.

  “I don’t remember the label, actually. I bought it in such a hurry.”

  But that was not enough to end the discussion of designer labels. Scott was determined to show off his exquisite taste—in everything.

  “And your clutch? I lived in New York city for fifteen years and I got very, very good at purses, which as you know, New York ladies take very seriously. Yours is pretty retro, which narrows it down to about four different designers.”

  “It was my mother’s. It’s not retro. It’s just old.” Lorna wanted to shut down that particular guessing game before it went on ad nauseum.

  “Have you ever been to one of the runway shows in New York? It’s a super inspiring way to spend the afternoon. I go back at least twice a year to buy my suits and always try to catch a show or two. There’s a Donna Karan coming up next month that you really should think about. Some people say I’m in the wrong business. Maybe they’re right. I don’t know. What do you think I should do with all my fashion expertise?”

  Lorna was getting impatient. “Forget about it.”

  “Forget about what?” Scott asked in genuine puzzlement. “You know what? I just lost my train of thought. What were we talking about?”

  He was serious. He had completely forgotten about his fashion mania. Just like Delphine had told her! She’d just made someone forget something. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Considering that gave her a little relief from his silly ramblings, she was gonna file that in the good column.

  How come dating and romance weren’t nearly as much fun as she had imagined them to be? Possibly because Scott was a windbag. And Liam had been a thoughtless jerk. Now, it was she who was starting to be envious of her giddy and hopeful colleagues back at the library. Why wasn’t beauty making her as happy as her friends appeared to be? Could it be, in part, because she was still fixated on the Protected, witch-hating Max?