Alice in Murderland

by Samantha Silver

  “Gee, if I knew you were going to be this unhelpful I wouldn’t have invited you to come,” Cat replied. “We’re not going to see Edith’s family, we’re going to go see Belinda Powers.”

  “Who’s Belinda Powers?” I asked.

  “She was Edith’s secretary. Edith ran a small bookkeeping business here in town. It’s true, Edith was poisoned on a Wednesday; she would have been at work then,” Peaches replied.

  “And I have it on good authority that she’s over there now, diligently going through all of Edith’s things to make it easier for the kids to deal with the estate.”

  “Good,” I nodded. “I think we should go talk to her.”

  I finished off the last bite of my delicious cupcake, savouring the cream cheese icing over the strawberry flavored cake below, and the three of us got up, locked up the store and made our way back out into Main Street.

  “Edith’s business is above Pickles’ Pizza,” Cat explained as we headed that way. “There are a few small businesses that have offices up there, like a couple real estate agencies.”

  Sure enough, Cat and Peaches led me toward a side door next to the entrance to Pickles’ Pizza that I hadn’t noticed my first night there. We entered a small hallway that led to a flight of stairs, taking us up to a small office building. A changeable placard at the top told us that Chalmers Bookkeeping was in office C. We walked down the hallway until we reached it, and Cat opened the door.

  The office was definitely small; probably only around two hundred square feet. There was a receptionist’s desk next to the door, with three black metal cabinets behind her; the type that every single office in the world had somewhere. At the back window was a bigger desk, with a large monitor and ergonomic keyboard. A squat, aging woman with grey frizzy hair but a friendly face – the kind of person you just know is the kind of person who spoils her grandchildren – sat at the computer typing away. She looked over toward us when she heard us enter.

  “Ah, Peaches, Cat. To what do I owe the pleasure?” She looked over at me. “I’m Belinda,” she told me, holding out a hand.

  “Alice Calliope,” I said with a smile. “My biological mother, Jennie, used to live here.”

  “Oh, Jennie, of course. So sad, the car accident,” Belinda said, making a clucking sound in the back of her throat. “Well it’s lovely to meet you, Alice. What can I do for you young ladies today?”

  “We were hoping you could tell us what Belinda was doing the day before she died,” Cat said, not beating around the bush at all. “Denise said she made a last-minute meeting with Susan McInnis, and we wanted to know how true that was. After all, Denise has been going around accusing me of poisoning Edith.”

  “Well that’s just ridiculous, isn’t it?” Belinda huffed. “I’ve known you your whole life; there isn’t a chance in hell – pardon my language – that you would have done this to Edith.”

  “I know,” Cat said. “I mean, I know Edith and I didn’t get along because she was in favor of the new development, but I never would have killed her. I’m just trying to find out who might have so Chief Griffin stops looking at me for it.”

  “Well I’ll have a nice chat with that young man if that’s what he thinks,” Belinda said. “But in the meantime, of course I can tell you what she did that day. In fact, it was a bit of a strange day.”

  “Oh yeah?” Peaches asked.

  “Yes,” Belinda nodded slowly, looking skyward as if replaying the day in her head. “She did have a meeting with Susan McInnis, but it was very last minute. And there was something strange about it, too. Edith had gone out that morning and had breakfast, I don’t know who with. But when she came back, she was very agitated. She went straight to the computer, and typed away at it for a while. I asked her what the problem was, and she told me nothing was wrong. Then, she told me I was welcome to take the rest of the day off. Just as I was leaving I heard her on the phone with Susan, asking her to meet up later that day.”

  “Do you know where she ate breakfast?” I asked. Belinda shook her head.

  “No. No, I’m not sure. But I know she had the eggs benedict; she’d spilled some Hollandaise sauce on her shirt.”

  “Ok, thanks,” Cat said. “And you have no idea who it was she had breakfast with?”

  “No, sorry. She didn’t tell me, she just texted that she was going to be coming in a bit later than usual, and then when she got here she mentioned breakfast but didn’t say with who.”

  “Thanks, Belinda,” Peaches told her. “We appreciate the help.”

  “You girls come and find me anytime if you have any more questions,” Belinda told us. “I’ll be working here for a few more days, but after that you should be able to find me at home anytime. Either here or at Brixton Road.”

  “Thanks,” Cat told her with a wave, and we made our way back to the street.

  “Brixton Road? Does that mean Belinda’s a witch, too?” I asked. Cat nodded.

  “Yes. She actually lives just two houses down from us. That’s how she knows us so well. Sapphire Village is small, but Brixton Road is even smaller.”

  “How can we tell if someone’s a witch or not?” I asked. “I had absolutely no idea until she mentioned Brixton Road.”

  “It’s hard, for sure,” Peaches replied. “A lot of the time there isn’t anything definitive. You just kind of have to know.”

  “So there isn’t any witchy intuition thing I’m missing out on by having been raised away from the magical world?”

  “No, no, of course not,” Cat told me. “You’re a completely normal witch, don’t worry.”

  I grinned as I thought about how there was absolutely nothing normal about being a witch. “So what restaurants in town serve eggs benedict?”

  “As the connoisseur of eggs benedict in this family,” Peaches announced, “I can tell you that there are four. One of them only does breakfast on weekends between March and June, and one of them is owned by Susan’s son, so there’s no way Edith would have gone there to eat. The third one is a bit out of town, but the last one is just down the street at the Sapphire Diner. They do all-day breakfast, as well, so I hope you brought your appetite, because Belinda just told us what we’re having for dinner tonight.”

  Despite the cupcake I’d eaten not long ago, my stomach began to rumble. It was then that I realized that I’d gone the entire day without eating while I busied myself setting up my new bookshop. All-day breakfast at the diner sounded good to me!

  The Sapphire Diner was down a side street, about a two-minute walk from Edith Chalmers’ office. It was made to look like an old railway car, with a bright red exterior and neon lights advertising milkshakes, burgers and fries.

  “That looks really cool,” I said admiringly as we walked up a couple of steps and entered the restaurant.

  “It is, isn’t it? This rail car used to be part of the Oregon Express, a train service that ran between Sapphire Village and Oregon twice a day until about twenty years ago. They decided it wasn’t making enough money. The owners bought the restaurant car, which already had a full kitchen installed, and made this diner,” Cat explained.

  When we walked inside, it was almost like stepping back in time, in a good way. The lighting was old-fashioned, with bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Wooden tables lined the sides of the car, with each table getting a view out the window. The seats were nicely upholstered in red velvet, and a waitress donning a cute little old-fashioned train captain’s outfit led us to a table and handed us menus.

  Two minutes later, another girl, dressed identically to the first one, came over to take our drink orders.

  “Hey! Cat, what a nice surprise, I haven’t seen you in ages. What can I get for you three tonight?” she asked us with a friendly smile.

  “I’ll have a diet Coke,” Peaches ordered.

  “Regular coke for me,” Cat added.

  “I’ll have an iced tea please,” I ordered, and the girl smiled.

  “Hey, Amanda,” Cat said before she could leave.
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  “Yeah?” she asked Cat.

  “Did you happen to be working here five days ago, in the morning?”

  Amanda rolled her eyes. “Of course I was. All I do is work these days. My dad says that until I decide what I want to do with my life and get accepted to college I have to earn my keep around the house.”

  “Ugh, I know the feeling,” Peaches said, giving her a sympathetic smile.

  “Right? So yeah, I was here. Why?”

  “Did you see Edith Chalmers eating breakfast with anyone?”

  Amanda slipped into the booth next to Cat, her eyes glistening with excitement. “Yeah, of course I did. Who knew she’d be dead three days later? You’ll never believe who she was with, either.”

  “Who?” I asked, almost breathlessly. I really wanted to know the answer.

  “Ernest Forsyth.”

  Peaches and Cat’s eyes widened, while I just looked around from face to face, blankly.

  “Who?” I finally asked.

  “The head of the company in charge of the new development,” Cat replied. “His company also owns the majority of the ski resort here.”

  “Maybe he’s the one who killed her,” Amanda said breathlessly, getting back up off the seat. “But yeah, they were here together then. They looked like their conversation was serious, too. They always stopped talking whenever I came over to ask if they needed a coffee refill or anything. I did overhear a snippet of their conversation though. They were talking about which councillors were going to vote at the city council meeting to make the project a reality.”

  “Cool, thanks Amanda,” Cat told her. “Anytime. I’ll be back with your drinks in a minute.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Five minutes later, Amanda had come back with the drinks, and taken our orders for a late dinner. Cat, Peaches and I put our heads together and began to discuss what we’d just found out.

  “So Edith had breakfast with Ernest Forsyth. That’s big news,” Peaches started

  “Well, it’s not that big,” Cat replied. “I mean, Edith was in charge of the group of citizens who wanted the project to go ahead. It would be naïve of us to assume she and Forsyth never spoke.”

  “I guess. But still. What if he was the one who killed her?”

  “Why, though?” I asked. “After all, Cat’s right. He was the developer of a project Edith was in favor of. What reason could he possibly have to kill her?”

  Peaches shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe Edith found out something that Forsyth didn’t want her to. Maybe she was blackmailing him. Maybe she just changed her mind.”

  Cat squawked out a laugh. “Edith Chalmers, just change her mind? Seriously, Peaches. The blackmailing idea is way more realistic.”

  “Fine. So go with the blackmail idea. Either way, we know that Ernest Forsyth had breakfast with Edith the morning she was poisoned, and we already know he’s not a good man.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  “Have you ever met a rich person who was a good person?” Peaches asked. “I mean really, really rich.”

  “I don’t actually know any super rich people,” I replied, shrugging.

  “Well, they’re not. In general, they’re awful people, and Forsyth is no exception.” Peaches’ face darkened.

  “You’ll have to excuse Peaches, her artist friends have convinced her that socialism is the one true form of government,” Cat joked, and Peaches flipped her off.

  “He made a fortune by bribing officials to allow him to cut down old growth forests in Oregon, and by the time he got found out, while a few politicians had their careers ruined he was already so rich that he wasn’t really affected. He runs a conglomerate out of Portland now, but keeps a place in Sapphire Village. And one at Brixton Road,” Peaches replied.

  “Wait, he’s a wizard?” I asked.

  Cat nodded. “Yeah. A lot of us suspect that he used a bit of dark magic to make some of his money and influence people to do things for him. He’s definitely not a good dude.”

  “So if Edith found out something about him, you guys don’t think he would hesitate to poison her?”

  “Definitely not,” Peaches said darkly. “I could see him murdering someone who would get in the way of his new deal for sure.”

  “So our next step should definitely be to go talk to him,” I said.

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Cat replied glumly. “I was really hoping we’d get away with not having to do that.”

  “Well, we can always give up now, and you can worry about going to jail for a while,” I teased, and Cat sighed.

  “I suppose that is the lesser of two evils, isn’t it?” she answered with a wry smile. “Fine. We’ll go see him. He’ll be in Brixton Road at this time of night. He has a portal that goes from his office in Portland straight there. Everyone else in Brixton Road only has portals to Sapphire Village but no, Ernest Forsyth had to be special,” Cat added, rolling her eyes.

  Just then, Amanda arrived with our food and I dug into my French toast with fresh berry coulis and whipped cream. After all, if we were going to go confront a potential murderer, I was going to need to get my energy levels up.

  * * *

  An hour later, I felt like a whale. A very happy, very full whale.

  “Can you roll me out of this booth please?” I asked Cat, who laughed.

  “I’m so stuffed; I don’t think I have the strength to.”

  “Well, I guess I live in this seat now,” I replied. “It could be worse, at least from here I can order food until I finally die.”

  “You two realize you didn’t need to eat all the food on your plates, right?” Peaches asked, looking at the two of us scornfully as she packed away the take-away container which held half of the omelette she’d ordered.

  “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Cat asked in reply. “Then again, we’re talking to someone who ordered an egg-white omelette at the diner, you’re obviously not a fun person to begin with.”

  “Well for one thing, I’m going to live past the age of forty-five without my heart giving out. And for another, I actually still fit through the portal to get us to Brixton Road,” Peaches replied.

  “Maybe, but I got sweet, sweet French toast. What’s the point of life if you’re not going to eat French toast?” I asked, and Peaches rolled her eyes.

  “I’m not sure they have a lot of French toast served in prison, seeing as that’s where Cat might be spending the rest of her life if we don’t figure out who killed Edith. But it’s good to see your priorities are French toast over your cousin.”

  “Hey, I just met her a few days ago,” I joked.

  “I’d hit you for that comment, but I think I’m in a food coma. And to be honest, I’d probably pick this French toast over me, too,” Cat replied.

  “You’re both ridiculous. Come on, get up. We have to go see Ernest Forsyth.”

  With a little bit more grumbling, Cat and I finally got up, and we left the diner.

  “Should we use the entrance at the cupcake shop?” Cat asked, and Peaches nodded.

  “Sounds good. I can leave my leftovers in the fridge while we’re there. Plus, that’s closer than my place or the bookshop.”

  The three of us made our way back to the cupcake shop and Cat unlocked the door. We walked into the back and Cat opened the door to a huge walk-in fridge. The cold air instantly made goosebumps form on my forearms.

  “Why are we in here?” I asked as Peaches carefully put her dinner leftovers on a shelf next to an industrial-sized vat of butter.

  “This is where my portal to Brixton Road is installed,” Cat said, reaching up to the top shelf. She picked up a container of raspberry jam and put it back down, then did it again, and a third time. As soon as she put the jar down for the third time, a round portal opened up right in front of us, same as the one that had appeared in my bookshop. The only difference was, this portal was bright pink.

  “I’ll go first,” Peaches said, stepping into the portal. As soon as she touched t
he pink glow, she disappeared.

  “After you,” Cat said to me, and I took a deep breath and followed my cousin. Once again, I felt air whooshing around me, like I was stuck in the middle of a tornado. Then, just as quickly as it had started, the whooshing stopped, and I found myself back in the same little area of Brixton Road that held all the portals to get back to Sapphire Village.

  “Why does this place look like it was designed by a unicorn who pukes rainbows?” I asked as I followed Peaches and Cat down the street. I just couldn’t get over how pastel everything looked.

  Cat laughed. “The original witches and wizards who created Brixton Road did it in the mid-60s, and we’re pretty sure when they designed it they had been smoking things that still aren’t legal in this state.”

  “No kidding,” I replied, looking up at the sky, which was now alternating between a baby blue and pastel purple color, with twinkling stars all around.

  “You get used to it though. Trust me. Also, when you start using magic regularly, Brixton Road is nice because you don’t have to worry about non-magical people seeing it happen.”

  Cat and Peaches stopped suddenly in front of a large house, which was imposing despite the fact that it looked like it was built out of marshmallows. I felt this strange urge to run straight into the wall and see if it would just bounce me back off.

  The path leading up to the house was made of large, round circles that looked like they were made of gold. I was almost worried we were going to get yelled at for walking on them as we made our way to the front door and Cat pressed the doorbell.

  Rather than the traditional ‘ding-dong’ noise, however, the first few notes to ‘Thunderstruck’ by AC/DC blasted through the house. My eyes widened as I looked at Peaches and Cat.

  “Yeah, he’s a little bit… eccentric,” Cat replied.

  “If the woman wearing a shirt depicting a cat dressed up as Xena, Warrior Princess riding a fire-breathing unicorn with lightning in the background thinks this guy is eccentric, well, I just don’t even know what to expect,” I said as the door opened.