She ignored my chastisement and nodded.
I wondered what was up with those two. If they were as rich as they claimed, why was Rick being stingy with his wedding budget? Was it just because he was a typical man who didn’t really want all the fuss of the big wedding? Or was he hiding something about his supposed wealth?
“So, do you want to do it?” asked Nina. “The decorations and favors and so on?”
No, I did not want to do it. The less time I spent around these big city big mouths the better.
“Yes, I’d love to,” I said.
Unfortunately, I run a business, not a hobby. Sometimes I have to do things that don’t delight me quite as much as I would like.
Nina stepped toward me and leaned in. We were the only people in the shop so it struck me as rather odd behavior. “I say, do you offer other services?”
I bit my bottom lip while I tried to work out what she was getting at. “Other… services?”
“Could you… I mean, do you… Well, I would like you to cast a love spell.”
“A love spell?”
“On Rick.”
Oh my. A marriage that needs a love spell before the wedding even takes place seems like a rather rocky foundation. And besides, that was one thing that Blue Moon Bridal did not offer.
“I’m sorry, Nina. I don’t do love spells. Why would you ask such a thing?”
Nina shifted uncomfortably on the spot. “Well, I heard that all the women in this town are witches, and I figured that since you deal with weddings, you’re probably a kind of love witch, right?”
“Not all the women in this town are witches. There are a few normal people here too,” I said with a chuckle, “and you are right. I am a witch. But I don’t do spells like that. We—or at least I—believe that witches shouldn’t cast spells to manipulate other people. It’s just wrong.”
“But surely you have to get your hands dirty sometimes, if you want to make things happen, right?”
I frowned at her. “Some people may think like that, but I am not one of them, I’m afraid.”
Getting her hands dirty, eh?
And hadn’t she mentioned how desperately she wanted to buy Fletcher’s estate before?
This lady didn’t seem to have any kind of moral compass. In fact, she bore all the characteristics of a narcissistic gold digger. But then again, my mother is the world’s biggest narcissist, and she’s never murdered anyone. I think.
But it seemed that maybe there was more to Nina than I thought.
Chapter 7
“Aria, Aria!”
I’d been lost in a world of my own, thinking about poor old Fletcher Davenport as well as the upcoming wedding of Nina and Rick.
I was in-between my shop and the Black Cat Café, and when I heard my voice I turned around to see who it was. I blanched.
It was Jack. The detective.
“Oh, hello,” I said to him. “How are you?”
“Good. Glad to see you haven’t skipped town.”
I caught my breath. “Skipped town?”
He gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Sorry, bad joke. You know, because I asked you the other day about… the incident.”
“Oh. Ha ha ha.”
“That bad huh?” he said, wincing.
“Not your best. Have you made any progress on the investigation?”
Jack grimaced. “You know I can’t share that kind of information with you.”
Of course he couldn’t.
After accusing me of murder, and then telling me that witchcraft could be involved, he suddenly can’t tell me anything more. Back to doing things by the book for Jack I supposed.
“Well,” I asked, “can you at least tell me if I’m still a suspect?”
I had my hands on my hips now, and was giving him a fairly stern look. I don’t really do stern so I worried I looked ridiculous.
He squeezed his hands together and looked at me with wavering eyes, debating whether to answer.
Finally he said, “There’s nothing linking you to the matter, apart from the whole dress thing. That isn’t exactly a motivation for murder—you don’t even have the dress, right?”
I shook my head in confirmation.
A middle-aged couple brushed by us, and I lowered my voice so that any nosy passersby would really have to strain to hear our conversation.
“I don’t suppose…” I began, nervously, wondering whether I should even ask. “I don’t suppose you looked into that couple’s background, did you? The ones who are getting married, who were in my shop, joking about murdering him?”
“I thought they were joking about him dropping dead, not murdering him?”
“Right. But still…”
“And yes, of course, I’ve been looking into all the possibilities.”
“I know you can’t tell me about the investigation exactly, but do you think they’re as rich as they say they are? It's only something Nina said to me earlier. It’s like Rick doesn’t want to spend too much on the wedding all of a sudden.”
Jack raised his eyebrows at me and gave me a wicked grin. “Are you trying to figure out how much more you can charge them?”
My cheeks went scarlet and my heart raced. “Are you accusing me of ripping people off? Of gouging them for as much money as I can get out of them?”
Now it was Jack’s turn for his cheeks to go red.
“Is that really what you think of me?” I said, on a roll now. “You really think I’m just some moneygrubbing witch with a shop? Looking to fleece every customer out of as much money as I can get out of them?” I had my hands on my hips, and was tapping my foot on the ground, glaring at him.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It was just a joke. Another bad joke.”
“Well I don’t think you should go into comedy anytime soon,” I said to him, with a sniff.
“I’m sorry, Aria. But to answer your question, there was an article I found about him from a year or so ago that said he was worth over ten million dollars.”
“Ten million?”
“But here’s the thing. It looks like since then some of his investments have gone rather downhill. He’s lost a ton in the last year.”
“Real estate investments, right?”
Jack gave me a funny look. “No, that’s not where he lost his money. That’s where he made his money. These were some other riskier investments. Why did you mention property?”
“Well, I heard he was in real estate. I’ve also heard there’s a developer sniffing around, looking into buying Fletcher’s land to put up a resort. And with it apparently going up for auction soon, it all seems to be quite a bit of a coincidence, doesn’t it?”
Jack frowned and rubbed his head with his right hand.
“We’re exploring everything, but killing Fletcher the week before his land goes up for auction doesn’t really make any sense, does it? I mean, it’s going to be a public auction—anyone could buy it, right? No, if it was something like that, it would be more likely that Fletcher would still be alive and being threatened or blackmailed. I can’t imagine killing him just for the chance of bidding in an auction. An auction that was going to happen anyway.”
“Hmm.” It all still seemed a bit coincidental to me, even if what Jack was saying did make sense.
“Do you have any other ideas?”
He gave me a wry smile. “Didn’t I say I wasn’t allowed to tell you? But in general terms, people usually kill for revenge, jealousy, greed, or fear. And at the moment… Well, I can’t really link Fletcher to any of those motives. And without a motive, it’s going to be a hard case to solve.”
“Okay, but I still think you should look into the developers. And the mayor—that’s who the developer has been talking to.”
“Thanks for the tip,” he said. And then, with a glimmer in his eye, “Have you ever considered opening a detective agency? Blue Moon Bridal and Aria Investigates?”
“Was that another joke?” I said, fixing him with a Look.
“Ye-es?�
�� he said hesitantly.
I laughed. “Getting better.”
Chapter 8
A few days later, things seemed to have quietened down.
Jack hadn't been back to talk to me again, and so I seemed to be off the hook there. And it had been several days since Nina had been back to see me, luckily. Their wedding still seemed to be on, even if she hadn't found anyone to cast a love spell for her.
I also hadn’t gotten any of my usual local walk-in business. This had me a tiny bit concerned, but I hoped things would turn around soon. Since the local party business is unpredictable, I could easily have a week that was completely dead, followed by a week where I was rushed off my feet.
I’d just returned from lunch when I got a visitor. One who, initially, I was pleased to see. But then things went south.
Ding! The little bell tinkled, and the door swung open to reveal the proprietor of the Black Cat Café, Priscilla.
"Oh, hello! How are you?" I asked.
Although Priscilla wasn't getting married, she was a client. And the only other client so far this month, other than Rick and Nina.
In this case, it was on behalf of Priscilla’s daughter. She was expecting a baby soon, and for the baby shower she was planning she had ordered a beautiful pair of stemless champagne glasses for each of the guests as party favors. I had the orders placed, and they were set to be delivered later in the week.
"Hello, Aria," said Priscilla.
There was something odd about how she was speaking.
She wasn’t her usual friendly self, and she hadn't even looked around for Kiwi like she usually did as soon as she entered the shop. I knew he was in the stockroom, and ordinarily he would come out as soon as he heard Priscilla's voice.
The fact I couldn’t hear him making his way over should have been a warning.
"What can I do for you today?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, but I need to cancel my order."
That's it? No explanation? How odd.
"Is everything okay with your daughter?" I asked.
She took a deep breath in and breathed it out again before replying, "My daughter is fine."
"Then, did she change her mind? Would you like to order something else instead?"
Stranger and stranger.
"My daughter is fine, the baby is fine, but, well, the problem is…"
"Yes?"
"You."
"Me?" That was not what I was expecting to hear. "Is it something I've done? Did I get the date wrong or something?" I was certain I had the date right, but what other explanation could there be?
"No. It's not that. Not that at all. You know we were talking the other day, about the… unpleasantness with Fletcher Davenport?"
"Yes, of course. Of course I remember. It’s all anyone’s talking about these days."
"You see, the thing is, you didn't tell me that you were the last person to see him alive. And that the police had come to interview you. And that you’re a suspect, Aria."
"I'm not under investigation! I just spoke to Detective Bowers for a few minutes. Please, his death is nothing to do with me."
Priscilla shook her head sadly. "Look, I know you probably didn't do it," she began.
Probably?
"… But it’s not about the truth. It's about perception. Mrs. Honeywell has been telling everyone that you're under investigation for murder. She and your mother were talking, and, well, I just think it would look bad…"
"Look bad?" I asked.
"Yes," she said with another sigh, "if people knew I was buying baby shower decorations from a, well, suspected murderer, they might not come to my café. It's not about you, dear, but I have to protect my reputation. Protect my business. It's all I've got. I'm so sorry to have to do this to you."
"But it's not fair… I didn't do it! I had nothing to do with it. I've helped the police as best I can—I don't know what more I can do. Please, can't you reconsider? I'm sure no one will care where your daughter's decorations and gifts came from. Who even asks about such a thing?"
“Sorry," she said, shaking her head. "The decision has been made, my daughter has gone with another shop, one online, and there's nothing more to be done, I'm afraid. You probably want to lie low."
I most certainly did not want to ‘lie low.’ I needed to work to maintain my business, and you can’t do that hiding away from the world! Wait—were these rumors why I hadn’t received any local business recently?
"I've already paid the deposit to my suppliers for the items. I'll see if I can get it refunded."
"No. Keep the deposit, that’s business. We’re the ones canceling."
I sighed inwardly a breath of relief. Things were so slow that this cancellation was going to hurt. Goodness, I hoped Nina didn’t really need that love spell. If I lost that account as well… well, it wouldn’t be pretty.
"Good luck, Aria," said Priscilla. "I hope it all works out for you."
"Thanks," I said, feeling the exact opposite of gratitude in that moment.
After she left, I slumped back against the counter, my elbows resting on top, my chin buried on my chest, and let out a long, slow sigh.
I heard a quiet chirp followed by a nuzzling at my cheek.
“Hi," I said to Kiwi with a sad lilt in my voice.
"Not a pretty lady," said Kiwi sternly.
I wiped a tear away from my eye and gave a small laugh.
"Why did you let her talk to you like that? Like you are a murderer. How dare people think anything like that about you? It's all garbage!"
"Thank you," I said to my pet, my friend, my familiar.
"You’re wonderful, Aria. Awesome. Fantastic. And gentle, and kind… So, so kind…"
"Hey! Knock it off! I'm not in the mood. I know what you're after."
Cheese puffs. He was after cheese puffs. How could he, at a moment like this?
"I love you, Aria…” said Kiwi.
“… almost as much as cheese puffs?"
He gave an insulted squawk. "No! I'm serious! You are a good person, Aria. Good,” he said, really emphasizing it, to give it a deeper meaning than a mere synonym for nice. “If it wasn't for you, I'd be dead."
There was some truth to what he said.
Kiwi and I had met a couple of years earlier, when I found him by the side of the road, a sad pile of blue and yellow feathers, barely alive after picking a fight with a car and losing.
I had taken the little creature home, and nursed him back to health, initially trying to feed him seeds and other birdlike food, until I discovered his love for cheese puffs. It was while he was recovering that we realized he was more than just a parrot—he was a witch’s familiar, and even more fortuitously, he was my familiar. He had been following his instincts when he'd had his accident, searching for his counterpart. Me. I suppose that's why it was me that found him.
"That's true. You're not so bad," I said giving him a stroke. "I don't suppose you fancy a little snack, do you?" I asked, already reaching behind the counter for the cupboard below where I kept his treats.
“You get the cheese puffs. Then we’ll figure out how to get you out of this murder mess.”
Chapter 9
"So what are we going to do?" asked Kiwi.
I wrung my hands together and sighed. It was a tough spot. Priscilla’s cancellation was surely just the beginning.
If this slow wedding season continued, and none of the locals wanted to use my business anymore, how would I keep going? How long would it be before I could no longer pay the rent, or Sarah, or, most importantly, buy Kiwi's precious cheese puffs?
"We've got to solve this ourselves. The police aren't getting far and I've got no time to lose. I'll be broke before they catch the culprit at this rate."
"We should go to Fletcher's house," said Kiwi.
"No... no we shouldn't," I said.
The house had been creepy enough when Fletcher had been alive, what would it be like now he was dead? Not to mention that if we broke in, we'd be commit
ting a crime and possibly even disturbing a crime scene, though surely the forensics teams must have been done already.
"Yes, yes we should," said Kiwi nodding his head up and down. "You can do a seance and ask Fletcher himself."
"I'm not doing a seance in that creepy old house! Who knows what might appear? There might even be a demon lurking around after that pentagram..."
"Don't be such a scaredy cat," said Kiwi, looking down on me from his perch. Strangely, I actually felt like I was smaller than him, even though I knew it to be just a trick due to the height of his perch.
"I'm not afraid. I'm just... I don't want to get in trouble, Ki," I explained.
"You're already in trouble."
There was some truth to that.
Well, a lot of truth to that.
I was very much in trouble. Even if the police weren't after me, the financial trouble could just as easily ruin my life.
"But what if someone sees us?" I said.
"We'll just have to stay hidden. And don't worry... I'll protect you."
I snorted. "You, protect me?"
He stood up high on his perch and ruffled his feathers, pushing out his chest. "Lest you forget, Aria, I have deadly talons and a monstrous beak that can tear our enemies apart!"
I snorted again, even louder, and added a thigh slap for good measure. "You’re more likely to bore our enemies to death with mindless chatter.”
"I'm a lot stronger than I look," he said, offended.
"I'm sure you are. Well, all right then, tough stuff. If we're going to do this, then let's get it over with."
"We'll need provisions, of course."
I rolled my eyes and grabbed a bag of cheese puffs from the cupboard.
"Will this suffice for our expedition?" I asked him.
"Better make it two bags. Just in case."
We drove to the gates of Fletcher's house in my trusty Volkswagen that was older than me and possibly older than Kiwi, though he was always cagey about his exact age. I had it pinned down to somewhere between three and a hundred and twelve, though. I swore I'd figure out his age one day—or at least trick him into revealing it.
Wedding Bells And Magic Spells Box Set Page 6
