“What’s the strangest design you’ve ever done?” Florian asked.
Rick tapped his fork thoughtfully on the edge of the table. I watched Linnea rest her hand on top of his to stymie it. She probably didn’t want to give her mother any reason to criticize him. If Hyacinth wanted to lodge an objection, she’d have to work for it.
“I’d have to say the topiaries in the shape of a client’s family members,” Rick finally said.
“I suppose it’s bordering on narcissism,” Aster said.
“Oh, sorry,” Rick said. “I forgot the crucial part. They weren’t cut in the shape of the current family members, only the dead ones.”
Ackley appeared delighted by this revelation. “Cool,” he whispered. He shot a hopeful look at his mother. “Can we do something like that?”
“I don’t need a topiary in the shape of my father, thank you very much,” Aster said firmly.
At the mention of her deceased husband, Aunt Hyacinth’s expression hardened. “I think this topic has run its course, don’t you?”
“Speaking of the carnival, what’s the latest with the murder investigation?” Florian asked. “I heard that Jade Pepper is a suspect.”
“Where’d you hear that?” I asked. I decided now might be a good time to get to the bottom of their little rendezvous two weeks ago.
“I ran into Jade at Elixir last night,” he said. “She told me.”
“Oh.” I feigned innocence. “You weren’t out with Delphine?”
“She had to be up early today, so she didn’t want to go out,” Florian said. “She’s more of a homebody than I am.”
Aunt Hyacinth smiled at her only son. “And how are things progressing with the lovely witch? Should I book the caterer?”
Florian pulled a face. “Mother, don’t start.”
Aunt Hyacinth swirled her flute of bucksberry fizz before taking a sip. “I think it’s high time you bring her by for Sunday dinner, don’t you?”
“Mother, I already told you…” Florian warned.
“Yes, yes. You’re not ready.” Aunt Hyacinth flicked a dismissive finger.
“Wait, what?” My head swiveled from my aunt to Florian. “Delphine’s welcome at Sunday dinner, but you chose not to invite her?”
Florian appeared sheepish. “Dinner is a big step.”
“Is it?” Rick glanced at Linnea. “I thought it was just a meal.”
Aunt Hyacinth’s laugh tinkled. “Oh, Rick. You’re so droll.”
I noticed Linnea pat Rick’s thigh under the table. Poor minotaur had no clue what kind of family he’d gotten involved with. Nothing was ever just a meal or just an offhand comment at Thornhold. Every word and gesture was laced with meaning. He’d learn sooner or later.
“I could really use a few more progeny,” Aunt Hyacinth said, downing the remainder of her drink. She seemed in rare form this evening.
“Because we’re not enough, Grandmother?” Bryn asked. Bryn and Hudson were half werewolf, a constant source of disappointment to the powerful matriarch.
“That’s not what I said,” my aunt said. Her flute refilled without anyone pouring from a bottle. Leave it to my aunt to perfect the art of magical cocktails.
“Mother simply means the more, the merrier,” Aster said, attempting to intervene.
“No, she means the more witches and wizards, the merrier,” Linnea said, anger simmering beneath the surface.
“What if Ember marries Uncle Granger?” Hudson asked. “Then you might end up with more hybrid grandkids than not.”
“Mom is not going to marry Sheriff Nash,” Marley said. “The fortune teller said so.”
Every head jerked toward me.
“Which fortune teller delivered this auspicious news?” my aunt asked.
“The dead one,” I replied. “Anyway, that’s not what she said.”
“She said Mom’s not going to marry the one she thinks she’ll marry,” Marley said. “That means she won’t marry the sheriff.”
I gritted my teeth. “I think there are a few ways to interpret her reading. Apparently, she wasn’t very good at her job anyway, so I’m taking all her predictions with a grain of salt.”
“Because you want to marry Granger?” Linnea asked, leaning forward.
Oh boy. This dinner was spiraling out of control.
“We’re barely dating,” I said. “I only meant to say that I don’t put much stock in her fortune telling.”
“Did she warn you not to warm the donuts?” Hudson asked, snickering.
Linnea fixed her son with a thousand yard stare. “We agreed not to discuss the competition.”
“You told me not to,” Hudson said. “I didn’t agree.”
“Yes, I heard about the donut debacle,” my aunt said.
“It was quite the commotion,” I said, trying to remain cheerful. “Got myself kicked off the team.”
“They still won,” Florian said.
“Exactly,” I said. “I didn’t cost them anything except a little embarrassment.”
“I’ll need to have a word with the coven about your training,” my aunt said. “You shouldn’t be having trouble with such a simple spell. How did you manage to set the donuts on fire?”
“Please, no more lessons. I train all the time,” I said. At least it felt like I trained all the time.
“I bet she’s too overloaded,” Linnea said. “I know how I feel when I have too much on my plate, or use too much magic. It drains me.”
“And Ember still isn’t used to it,” Aster added. It was nice that my cousins were rushing to my defense.
My aunt regarded us silently as she took another sip from her flute. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
It was a start. Usually the only thing my aunt took under advisement was how many cat images of heads she could effectively squeeze onto a kaftan before they blended together.
“I’m sorry about encouraging you to get involved with the Power Puffs,” Florian said. “I should’ve realized it wouldn’t be a good fit.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said. “You were right. I need to make an effort, but maybe a different kind of effort.”
“You should simply wait until Marley enrolls in the Black Cloak Academy,” Aunt Hyacinth said. “Those are the parents worth knowing.”
There was a collective eye roll at the table.
“Mother, that’s insensitive,” Linnea chastised her. “You know Bryn and Hudson don’t attend there.”
“Yes, but Ember already knows you,” my aunt said. “Problem solved.”
“Will there be a party when I come into my magic?” Marley asked. “I’ve heard other witches get parties and presents.”
“Absolutely,” my aunt said. “I might even be tempted to purchase another unicorn.”
“Aunt Hyacinth!” I said, more intensely than I intended.
She turned her cool gaze upon me and I fought the urge to shrivel and die. “Yes, niece?”
“Marley Rose doesn’t need another unicorn,” I said calmly. “One is more than generous enough.”
“Perhaps I should buy one for you,” my aunt said. “That way, the two of you can ride together.”
Marley nearly fell off her chair. “That would be awesome!”
Sweet Goddess above. Another activity. The week would need an eighth day. “Let’s wait and see.”
“That always means no,” Marley sulked.
“We need to see whether you come into your magic first,” I said. “That’s the priority.”
Marley began to protest. “But Madame Bovary said she could see….”
“Madame Bovary couldn’t even see that her husband didn’t want to be married to her anymore,” I interrupted. Even worse, it seemed to me that Madame Bovary’s ability to predict the future could have saved more than her marriage—it could have saved her life.
12
Bentley and I waited outside the manager’s tent, listening to the raised voices inside. I’d told him I was going to interview Jacob about h
is ex-wife, and he’d insisted on coming along.
"I have twenty applicants willing to do your act,” Jacob said, sounding displeased. “The goal is to entertain the crowd. That's your entire job here and, if you can't do it, I'll easily find someone who can."
The manager seemed like a tough boss. Bentley and I exchanged glances when the flap opened and a troll emerged from the tent. He was one of the larger trolls I'd seen—nearly as tall as the tent itself. Bentley scuttled out of the way as the troll moved past, glaring at us. The manager had certainly put him in a foul mood.
"You first," Bentley urged.
I narrowed my eyes. "Remind me what Meadow sees in you again?"
"If you were my girlfriend, it would be a different story."
"Oh, you mean you would push me forward instead of waiting patiently?"
"Hardy har," Bentley said.
A voice rumbled from within the tent. "Are you two actually going to come in and talk to me or do I have to drag you in here by your ears?"
I grinned at Bentley. "If he drags us in by our ears, he’ll have a much easier time with you." Bentley's fingers shot up to stroke his pointy elf ears. He quickly ducked into the tent, apparently afraid that the manager would make good on his threat.
When I finally stepped inside, I was shocked to see a leprechaun behind a desk. "What is it with leprechauns and bossy behavior?" I whispered to Bentley.
"I may not be a vampire, but my hearing is excellent," the manager said.
My heart jumped. "Sorry. I have a certain leprechaun in my life who acts like the gods’ gift to law enforcement."
The leprechaun immediately relaxed and smiled. "You must know Deputy Bolan. My condolences."
"You know him?" I asked.
"We've been coming to Starry Hollow for years. And every year I have to clear all my paperwork through multiple bureaucratic channels, including your little green friend’s.”
I warmed to the temperamental manager. “I’m Ember Rose, and this is my colleague, Bentley Smith. We’re reporters for the local paper, Vox Populi."
"Yes, I remember you," the manager said, pointing at Bentley. "You interviewed me last year, didn't you?"
Bentley puffed out his skeletal chest. "I did. It was a nice piece. I sent you a copy."
The leprechaun examined him closely. "Nice piece, but not front page, if I recall correctly."
Wow. That was some memory he had. "Congratulations on another successful carnival," I said, in an effort to steer the conversation onto the right path. "From what everyone says, this year has been the best ever."
"It seems to be a common sentiment," Jacob said. “I can't exactly agree, though. It isn't every day we have a fire during the baking competition or a murder of a loved one on carnival grounds."
I averted my gaze, hoping he didn’t realize I was responsible for one of those problems.
“The victim was your ex-wife, I understand,” Bentley said.
The leprechaun nodded, his expression somber. “Bianca was a lovely woman. She will be sorely missed in the carnival community.”
“And what about personally?” I asked. “Did you two end on civil terms?”
“Oh, absolutely,” he replied. “Bianca and I had a wonderful relationship. I think we were both sad when it ended.”
“It was a mutual decision?” I asked. That didn’t correspond to what Zola had told me.
The leprechaun raked a tiny hand through his silver hair. "The decision was mine, actually. Our marriage had grown stale, but we were both too busy to do anything about it. The relationship simply deteriorated over time. A marriage is like a garden, if you don't water it regularly, it dies."
“Did the two of you talk about the issues in your relationship before the divorce?" I asked. "Was she aware of the problems?"
The leprechaun blew air from his nostrils. "At the time, I thought she knew. Not to be funny, but when you’re married to a talented seer like Bianca, you really do believe they know everything happening. I know the divorce really shook her confidence."
"Is that when her rating decreased?" I asked.
He glanced up quickly. "You know about that?"
“I’ve been working on an article about Bianca for the newspaper,” I said. “I know her career suffered in the last year or so.”
“I still feel guilty about that,” Jacob said. “It was bad enough springing the divorce on her, but then I seemed to ruin her career at the same time. Despite all that, she remained one of our most popular acts. No matter how many times she expressed the desire to leave, she never did.”
That squared with Zola’s story. “Your ex-wife told you she wanted to leave the carnival?”
“It became a cycle. She tried to quit several times, join a different carnival even. I’d end up offering her more money so that she’d stay.”
“Why did she want to leave so badly?” Bentley asked. “Sounds like she was top of the food chain here. She'd have to prove herself all over again with a different group.” Bentley had missed out on my conversation with Zola. He didn’t know about Madame Bovary’s lingering feelings for her ex.
“It was me,” Jacob admitted. “She told me on multiple occasions that she found it too difficult to work for me under the circumstances.” He paused, remembering. “I know she still loved me. She told me all the time. It was hard for her, seeing me every day.” He began to choke up. “It was hard for me to see her, too, but I guess I was better at compartmentalizing it.”
“It's also easier when you’re the one making the decision to break up,” I said. “Madame Bovary didn't get a choice in the matter, so it’s only natural that it was harder for her.”
“It was selfish of me, I suppose, trying to keep her here for the benefit of the carnival,” he said. “I should have let her go. I knew how miserable she was, yet I didn't want to lose her.” A single tear slid down his cheek. “And now I've lost her forever.”
“Do you have any theories on who may have killed her?” Bentley asked.
The leprechaun heaved a sigh. “The sheriff asked me the same question. I wish I knew. Bianca didn't have enemies. She was a longstanding member of this carnival and everyone respected her.”
Zola had mentioned a new girlfriend. “Are you involved in a new relationship now?”
Jacob adjusted his belt, clearly feeling awkward. “I am.”
“Someone with the carnival?" I pressed.
“Hard to have a relationship with anyone outside the carnival,” Jacob replied. “We travel constantly.”
“Who is she?” I asked.
“Her name’s Lizette,” Jacob said. “She’s a talented performer. The star of the opening night ceremony.”
“Oh, I’m sorry I missed that,” I said.
“She also performs aerial feats at the costume ball,” Jacob said. “Lizette’s a class act.”
“Were you aware of any issues between Bianca and Lizette?” I asked.
“They avoided each other, as far as I know,” Jacob said. “You’d have to ask Lizette, though. They would’ve tried to keep me out of any disagreements.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said. I didn’t get the sense that Jacob had any motive to kill his ex-wife. According to Zola and Jacob, it sounded as though Madame Bovary had chosen to stay, no matter how many times she expressed a desire to leave. The bottom line was that she couldn’t bear to be apart from her ex-husband. There would’ve been no reason for Jacob to smash a crystal ball into the back of her head.
“It’s a loss for the whole community,” the leprechaun said. “She deserved better.”
“Thank you for your time,” I said. “I know how busy you must be. The carnival is amazing.”
“I appreciate the feedback,” Jacob said. “It'll be front page news this year, right elf boy?”
Bentley bristled. “I don't get the final say, but I'll do my best.”
The leprechaun reached up to pat Bentley on the shoulder. “That's what I like to hear. If we all did our best, the
world would be a much better place.”
Marley and I stood on the doorstep of Haverford House, the home of town matchmaker and resident elderly witch, Artemis Haverford. She’d invited Marley and me for tea after school. She rarely left the grand house, and I suspected she invited us in order to receive news from the outside world, not that we minded. Marley and I adored Artemis.
Jefferson, her ghostly manservant, greeted us at the door. Her ancient and mangy familiar, Clementine, lurked in the background.
Artemis reclined on a chaise lounge in the parlor room, resplendent in a white gossamer dress. Her hair had been carefully styled and a touch of makeup applied to her pale skin, but not so much that it washed out her complexion. She’d clearly taken great care in dressing for today’s engagement.
“Welcome, my two beautiful Roses.” She waved a frail hand. “Thank you kindly, Jefferson.”
Although neither Marley nor I could see Jefferson, we felt his presence. He and Artemis had a special relationship that I tried not to think about too often. As liberal as I tended to be, there were some romances that were simply beyond my comprehension.
“How have you been, Mrs. Haverford?” Marley asked.
“Wonderful,” Artemis replied. “Very busy with clients lately. Must be the season.” She focused her wrinkles on me. “I understand you’re off the market, Ember.”
I recoiled. “Me?”
A tray floated in, complete with three teacups and a teapot. It landed gently on the coffee table.
“Thank you, Jefferson,” Marley said.
“Yes, you,” Artemis said. “You’ve been seen gallivanting around town with that handsome sheriff.”
“Gallivanting?” I echoed. “I don’t gallivant. I can’t even spell gallivant.”
“G-a-l…” Marley began.
I shot her a quieting look. “I’ve been out with the sheriff a handful of times, but it’s still very new and unofficial.”
Artemis folded her delicate hands in her lap. “Oh, so you’re entertaining other suitors?”
I shifted uncomfortably. Did our visit have to kick off with a matchmaking inquisition? “Not exactly.”
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