Something about this didn’t make sense. Grammy Jo would’ve never used ricin. I doubt she even knew how to make it from castor beans. It couldn’t have been in the tea.
But then, how could Allen have been poisoned? As far as I knew, he hadn’t eaten or drank anything between the time he stopped by my shop and the time of his death. There had to be something we were missing. A clue.
“Blythe!” I popped off the bench, gripping her hand tight. “Tell me you still have that rose you cut from Allen’s garden.”
She stepped back, hesitating. “Yeah, it’s drying in my journal.”
“Go get it.” I ran toward the kitchen and pulled Grammy Jo’s spell book off its shelf. Cracking its ancient spine, I sped through the pages, desperate to find the one page we needed.
Raven came up next to me. She managed to calm down her mother and send her back upstairs for a nap. “What are you looking for?”
“A potion,” I mumbled. It was here, I knew it was. Only a couple days ago, I’d flipped through it. The pages turned through a dozen more spells and I found my target. “Here! A detecting potion.”
Raven looked down at the page and then back at me with confusion. “Why do you need that?”
“I’ve got it!” Blythe slid through the doorway, her journal in hand.
“Great!” I snatched it from her and carefully pulled the rose from its pages. It was still red and slightly dried, crushed into a flat impression of Mr. White’s magnificent blossoms. “We need the rest of these ingredients and Grammy’s backup cauldron. Help me get it started.”
Maybe they thought I was having a nervous breakdown, because they didn’t press me for any more answers. Instead, they gathered the witchy ingredients needed to complete the spell. A spoiled egg, a branch of oak, a dash of Ceylon cinnamon, and a few other more exotic ingredients we kept on hand.
Soon, the cauldron was boiling above the newly repaired stove. I stood back to admire its healthy orange glow. Maybe I was finally coming into my potion skills.
“If this works correctly,” I explained to my cousins, “then the water should turn black once we put the rose in the cauldron. It’ll only take a few seconds.”
Raven nodded solemnly. “Okay, let’s get on with it.”
Gingerly picking up the rose by its stem, I dropped it in the boiling water. We leaned over the edge, waiting for the transformation. The water burped orange bubbles, but nothing happened. Not even a blip of black. My gut clenched.
“Are you sure we did it right?” I ran to look at the potion book. “Maybe we didn’t stir it right.”
Grammy had been right; I was useless at potions. Not even a simple detecting spell would work for me. I wanted to kick and scream, shooting magic out my fingers at the antique family photos hanging on the walls. But that wouldn’t work either. I was terrible at projecting.
“Hazel, look.” Blythe pointed at the potion.
I sprinted back to look. A dark black cloud spread across the surface of the cauldron and enveloped the entire liquid.
“What does it mean?” Raven asked. “It’s a detection spell, but what are we detecting.”
A smile pulled at my lips. I leaned back and let go of a huge breath of air. “What that means, my dear cousins, is that Grammy Jo couldn’t have poisoned Mr. White.”
They both stared at me expectantly.
“It means that the rose was the poison. The rose is what killed Allen White.”
Chapter 15
We watched silently through the window as Aunt Piper and Aunt Viv huddled together on the cold stone bench. Their arms were wrapped around each other, drawing comfort from their closeness.
“So, let me get this straight,” Raven said with a sigh. “Now you think Andy Jenkings is the murderer? Because the rose was poisoned with ricin?”
I shook my head. It couldn’t be any clearer. “Yes! Don’t you remember that bag he was carrying the day we went to talk to Laura? He didn’t want us to see it. I’ll bet you anything it was full of ricin.”
Blythe left the window and began to pace the floor, slowly nodding her head. “You know, it does make sense. Laura was so nervous. I’ll bet she knows Andy killed him and she’s too scared to tell the truth.”
“Think about it.” I hopped up on the counter and held out two fingers. “Andy hated Mr. White for two reasons. One: he’s obsessed with water waste. Two: as long as Allen was alive, he couldn’t be with Laura. That’s two motives. He knew Mr. White was obsessed with his prize-winning roses. So he went down and sprinkled ricin on them. After returning home from my shop, Mr. White goes down to check them out. He can’t resist – they’re too perfect. He sniffs them. Boom, he’s dead.”
It all laid out perfectly in my head. The painting, the eerie feeling we got from talking with Andy, even Blythe’s vision about the letter pointed us toward the roses.
“If that’s the case, how do you prove it?” Raven leaned on the counter across from me, folding her arms over her t-shirt. Without her dark lipstick, she appeared almost pale. “I don’t think Ian will let Grammy go without some hard proof.”
She was right. We had to prove Andy did the poisoning. We had to find his stash.
Blythe dangled her foot over the fence, balancing on her tippy toes. She paused and put her foot back on the ground, shaking her roller-free head. “Guys, I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m getting a bad witchy vibe here.”
Raven rolled her eyes and grabbed Blythe by her tiny waist, neatly depositing her on the other side of Andy Jenking’s knee-high wooden fence. We both followed, despite Blythe’s nasty evil eye.
“If it really was a bag of fertilizer he was holding, it’d probably be in the shed,” I told her. No need to bother with the main house until necessary. “But we’ve all got to do this together.”
Our first stop was the old lean-to shed in Andy’s backyard. An ancient and crumbling building, it had plenty of weathered wood and overgrown bushes holding it together. Allen White’s yard backed up to his and from this vantage we could see the hedges surrounding the prize rose garden. It would’ve been only too easy for Andy to wait for Mr. White to leave, sprinkle the ricin on the roses, and then watch for his victim to come wandering back. He had a clear view of the entire crime scene.
“He’s not very organized, is he?” Blythe commented after stepping over a strewn pile of logs.
She was right. Andy’s backyard looked worse than at Brunick Manor. While Grammy Jo tended to go with nature’s flow, Andy just let things grow wild. It made his whole yard and the back of his cream colored Cape Cod style house appear broken down. He might’ve been concerned about water waste, but he certainly wasn’t concerned about cleaning up the mess in his yard.
“Doesn’t seem like the type of guy to keep fertilizer handy,” Raven said. She sunk her heels into a soft mole hill and swore. I wanted to comment, but now was not the time to lecture her on her shoe choice. “I’m guessing he’s morally opposed to gardening in general. Half the vermin population of Uriville have taken up residence in his yard.”
Assuming Raven could get a reading off of the animals living beneath Andy’s soil, she was probably being overwhelmed with the thoughts of hundreds of the little blind animals. Mole tracts disrupted half the yard, creating little black furrows that zigzagged back and forth.
“Come on guys.” I trudged ahead to the shed. The sooner we found the bag, the sooner we could get out of here. Andy Jenkings hadn’t struck me as a patient sort of man. I didn’t want to find out how he’d react if he found us snooping around.
A tiny tin light hung above the door to the shed. Electricity hummed through the dying lightbulb as it flickered and waned. I wrenched the door open and it dragged against the ground. Raven and Blythe looked around my shoulders as we peered inside. It was too dark to see anything. Even the noonday sun didn’t reach far enough inside to illuminate the contents.
“Guys, we've got to hurry.” Blythe bounced on her toes. “Andy could come out here any minute.”
I looked over my shoulder. So far, no signs of life coming from the house. The yard was overgrown enough that even if he were to look out his back window, I don’t think he could’ve seen us through the bramble. Still, Blythe was right. We needed to get what we came for and get out of there.
Snapping my fingers, a flame appeared above my fist. It was a trick I’d learned a few years ago and it had come in handy several times since then. Blythe oohed and awed at the little magic trick as if she was a five year old at a birthday party.
“I wish I could do that,” she said sadly. “But I just can’t get it right.” She snapped her fingers, creating nothing but a couple of sparks.
Raven tried as well, but couldn’t even do that. She shrugged and gave up rather quickly. “Grammy Jo says each witch has her talents. I guess that’s not one of mine.”
We didn’t have time to ponder our magical gifts. I led us into the shed, the flame lighting up just enough of the floor to see where we were going. From what I could pick out, a wooden workbench lined the back wall. An old rusty lawnmower sat in the middle. Rotten bags of seed were piled up in one corner.
“I can’t see anything,” Blythe whined. She clung to the back of my shirt, nearly pulling me back. “It’s not here, you guys. We should get out of here.”
“How do you know it’s not here, if you can’t see anything?” Raven snapped. She left us, stumbling back toward the door.
Blythe chased after her. “Hey, where are you…?”
With a click, Raven hit the light switch and illuminated the bulb hanging above our heads. We all froze, surprised by the sudden brightness. The first thing I noticed was the mess overtaking the workbench. Wires and metal pieces were strewn about in piles. Several pairs of pliers and a soldering iron sat next to them. My eyes followed the bench until they came upon a white burlap sack that looked awfully familiar.
“That’s it,” I cried, jumping forward. “That’s the bag he didn’t want us to see.” The bag was still tied shut, so I picked it up and turned to the others. “This proves it, he killed Allen White.”
This was the evidence we needed. Drop it off at Ian’s, and Grammy Jo would be out by lunch. In all, a very efficient day if I do say so myself.
“Um, Hazel?” Raven pointed behind me. She and Blythe were both staring at the opposite corner of the shed, which I had yet to explore. “I’m not so sure about that.”
I turned slowly and jumped. On the far edge of the workbench was a stack of what looked like home-made dynamite sticks. Black plumber’s tape wrapped around them, with wires poking out. I might’ve never seen one in person before, but it didn’t take me long to realize what it was.
“A bomb!” I tripped over my feet as I scrambled backwards, landing hard on my back with the burlap bag tight in my arms.
Before the stars could clear from my eyes, I looked up at my cousins and felt a cold wave of panic rush through me. Standing behind them was Andy Jenkings with a scowl on his face.
He’d found us.
“Get in there.” He wasted no time shoving my cousins to the ground next to me.
I clung to the bag and backpedaled until I hit the workbench. Blythe clung to my elbow while Raven squatted on my other side.
“You won’t get away with this,” I yelled. Poisoning his neighbor and now creating bombs? He was a monster. “The police are going to find out sooner or later.”
He smiled, revealing a missing bottom tooth that I hadn’t seen before now. Any attractive qualities about him had taken a sudden nose dive. “The police don’t need to find out.”
I reached around for my back pocket. Before we left the house, I’d stashed my cellphone there. Using Blythe’s quivering form to hide my arm, I tugged it from my jeans and held it in my sweaty palm. Somehow, I needed to dial 911 without Andy seeing. I needed a diversion.
“If you let us go, we won’t tell anyone,” Raven said in a calm and steady voice. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, her knuckles white. “We promise.”
Andy tilted his head to the side as if he was actually considering it. I prayed silently that he was just dumb enough to believe her. Of course, I’d run straight to the police as soon as we were out of here, but he didn’t need to know that.
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Andy said with another smile. He reached around his back and pulled something from his pocket. It was long and slim, painted black. Flipping it in his hand, a wicked looking blade popped out. “You’re not going anywhere.”
All three of us inhaled sharply. By himself, Andy was a pretty formidable man due to his height. Add a knife and our situation was looking pretty hopeless.
“Raven,” Blythe’s voice was shaky and her nails dug into my skin. “I think it’s about time you used that special gift of yours.”
That was right – Raven could throw out waves of energy. She used to knock apples out of the orchard in the fall when we were little. Once, she even chased off a vicious sheepdog with her gift. It had chased us nearly halfway around the lake before Raven took it head on. I hoped that meant she could fend off a madman with a knife.
“No problem.” Raven stretched to her full height. With her arms held out at her sides, she closed her eyes and began to hum.
“What are you doing?” Andy demanded. His panicked expression fell on us. “What is she doing?”
“Kicking your butt,” Blythe answered with a lift of her chin.
A wall of energy burst from Raven’s hands and sailed across the shed. It hit Andy like a charging elephant, sending him catapulting backwards. She walked forward, releasing a second wave and rolling him a few more feet out the door of the shed. By this time, Blythe and I were on our feet. I had 911 already on my screen and dialing. Raven blasted Andy a third time and he hollered in rage, his face burning red.
“Let me go,” he screamed.
A fourth wave of energy and the switchblade went flying from his hand and across the yard. He landed on the pile of logs, smacking his head on a stump, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head.
By the time the cops showed up, Raven had pinned Andy to the ground under the sharp point of her heel. She dug it into his neck as he squirmed and cried. I cradled the white burlap bag and Blythe was holding the switchblade out, pinched between her thumb and forefinger.
Ian Larson was the first to jump out of the squad car. He ran toward Andy with his gun drawn, screaming at him to put his hands out. Three other cops followed, piling on top of him with their guns and cuffs out. Andy twisted and issued a guttural scream. With a little extra help from Raven’s heel digging into his jugular, he was soon in handcuffs.
“Nice of you to finally show up,” I said to Ian, throwing the bag we’d found in his hands. His mouth fell open as his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “I think you’ll find we have your killer.”
Chapter 16
Ian rubbed his fingers on his temples for the tenth time and shook his head at me. More officers had arrived at the scene and were already in the process of examining the shed. They’d led us far away, on the other side of Andy’s home. Having a few more feet between me and his homemade bomb allowed me to relax a bit more.
“Tell me again why you think Andy is the murderer?” Ian asked. “I’m a little confused. And I thought I told you to stay out of this.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Okay, I’ll say this nice and slow. Andy was carrying that bag the day we went to ask Laura some questions. He didn’t want us to see it.” I pointed to the white burlap sack that was currently being placed into evidence by one of Ian’s officers. “When you told me it was ricin that had killed Mr. White, I realized that’s what Andy had been hiding. I figured, if we found the poison, then you’d believe me.”
He pursed his lips and stared hard at me for a long moment. I shifted my feet and began running my hands through the snarly mess of curls that had fallen out of my bun, avoiding his eyes. He wasn’t very happy with me, which was easy enough to see. But that wasn
’t fair. It wasn’t my fault these bad things kept happening to me.
Snarls coming from behind us captured both of our attention. Andy struggled against the force of two police officers pulling his arms. They kneed him in the side of his thigh, forcing him to his knees. He spat at them, his teeth bared like a lion.
Raven and Blythe were a little further down the property, talking to another officer holding a notepad. The poor man couldn’t decide whether to write on his pad, stare at Blythe’s chest, or blabber incoherently in Raven’s face. Blythe was being very patient with him, but Raven had crossed her arms and was tapping her toes in annoyance.
I couldn’t be more thankful for my cousins at that moment. They were crazy and odd at times, but at this moment, I loved them all the same. Andy would’ve killed me if they hadn’t been there.
“Wait! You can’t take him!” Laura Blight came running up the hill from Mr. White’s manor. Without the white blouse and black skirt, she appeared almost unrecognizable in a gray hoodie and athletic shorts. She ran toward Andy, throwing her arms around his neck before the officers could stop her. “He didn’t do it.”
“Ma’am, step away.” Ian had his hand on the gun at his side. He held out his other arm as a warning. “Step away, please.”
Laura shot her arms up in the air. “You can’t take him. He didn’t kill Mr. White.” She burst into ugly wracking sobs and clutched her abdomen. “I did it!”
There was a moment of silence as everyone around the yard exchanged looks. Little quiet Laura didn’t exactly strike me as a murderer. With her delicate features and thin arms, she looked about as dangerous as a swallow.
“Are you confessing to a murder?” Ian asked, sliding in slowly to Laura’s side.
She looked up at him with crocodile tears falling from her lashes and nodded. “It was me. Andy had nothing to do with it. I put it in Mr. White’s cream cheese Danish. He couldn’t resist a breakfast pastry. I knew he’d eat it all up. I killed Mr. White.”
Thorn to Die Page 9
