The light dawned; I didn’t know why it had taken me so long. This must be Jonathan’s parents. My heart ached for them, but even so, I didn’t like how they were talking about Ethel.
“Tell your granddaughter to come home and face the music. I know you know where she is.” He was nearly yelling.
Finally his wife managed to pull him away, but he continued to yell all the way through the market. His finger was raised in the air and he pointed angrily at the sky. “Your granddaughter will get what’s coming to her. She will pay for murdering my son.”
My nerves continued to jangle long after he was gone and my grandmother had gotten back to work. She didn’t say anything and I knew she wouldn’t, but I could tell she was upset by the thin line of her mouth and the slight shaking of her hands.
After that disturbance it was hard to concentrate on work again. The sun was shining, but the mood at the market had changed. We had fewer customers, and people were starting to look at us with funny expressions.
I had none of the immunity to drama that my grandmother seemed to have. My whole body was filled with tension. I kept picking up and putting down the same head of lettuce, until Lowe finally grabbed my elbow and stopped me.
I gave her a grateful look. It was late morning, and we were almost out of products to sell when there was another interruption.
“What’s that commotion?” I asked. At one end of the long rows of stalls I could see a press of people. There was also suddenly a hum in the air.
My grandmother didn’t look. She just kept working. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Can you hand me some more tomatoes?”
Frowning, I handed her the produce, but I still kept looking at the far end of the market. More and more people were piling into a small space, while the sellers tried to protect their products. We were almost at the point where we had more people than space to put them in.
“I think it’s the Carlisles arriving. I didn’t think they stooped to coming to the farmers market,” said Lowe.
My grandmother sniffed and continued to ignore the hullabaloo.
The procession of the most famous witch family in Twinkleford made its way toward us like a fire rolling down a hill covered in dry grass. We were powerless to move out of the destructive path.
I glanced nervously at my grandmother to see what she wanted to do, but she persisted in counting her money and ignoring everything else. The bonnet she was wearing nearly covered her face. I couldn’t read her eyes.
My tension increased until it felt like it was starting to seep out of me. I was sure the Carlisle witches were coming straight for us.
Everyone else simply fell out of their way as they came relentlessly onward. The Carlisle witches were formidable, beautiful, and rich. Not to mention intimidating. It was a sort of indefinable dangerous quality about them that made me so uncomfortable.
Right when they were about to reach us, I saw a familiar face in the crowd. Standing a good distance away from them was Quinn, innocently examining some strawberries and apparently oblivious to the chaos going on nearby.
He and my grandmother were so good at ignoring distractions that I decided they should have tea together one of these days.
The queen of the Carlisle clan, one of the three queens who ruled the Witch Coven, reached us at last. She was carrying a bejeweled fan and tapping it delicately against her white-gloved hand. Behind her were her daughters, flanking her like a small army, or a flock of twittery birds. They succeeded in looking entirely unimpressed, judgmental, and nasty all at once.
What was worse, the Carlisles were far from alone. There were several other people spinning around them, including some men dressed in suits and carrying large boxes. This family was buying up half the market.
“Oh, this little stall. Is it really still here?” one of the sisters asked.
From under my lashes I tried to read my grandmother. She had ceased what she was doing and raised her head, a smile on her face that didn’t reach her eyes.
“We’ve been here for years. That isn’t likely to change any time soon,” she said.
“Of course not,” said another of the sisters in a voice that said she didn’t believe her.
My grandmother’s eyes narrowed, but the smile stayed in place.
“It’s so hot out. Can we go in now?” yet another of the sisters asked, one I hadn’t seen shopping the other day. She was the only one of them wearing glasses, and I looked at her with interest.
“Soon, dear. We just have a few more things to pick up for the Council meeting,” said the queen witch.
“What could we possibly have to get here?” one of the sisters asked.
“We should be careful about even eating something from that borough,” said Hannah, who was attended by her constant shadow, Taylor. Both girls covered their mouths with their hands and pretended to hide their laughter.
“We have the best produce in Twinkleford,” said Lowe.
One of the sisters picked up a tomato and ate it. She didn’t offer to pay. I glanced at my grandmother to see if she was going to say anything. She didn’t.
“Do you, now? Isn’t that funny,” said the queen witch. “I didn’t think anything could even grow there.”
“You know very well that the neighborhood where you grew up has plenty of good soil,” said Bethel.
All the sisters looked shocked, and one of them gasped. The queen witch’s eyes narrowed.
My grandmother had thrown down the gauntlet, and the queen looked distinctly displeased. Bethel was very much talking to her superior.
“I can assure you that I remember nothing of the kind,” she said.
“And I can assure you that it’s true,” said my grandmother.
The queen glared. She clearly hadn’t expected my grandmother to say anything like that. For my grandmother’s part, she maintained a thin smile. Challenge accepted.
“The Coven Council is excited to welcome its new members this year. Members of the coven are expected to follow the rules and behave in a certain way. I hope you understand that. I hope your granddaughter understands that as well,” she said.
“Which one?” my grandmother asked.
The queen’s eyes flicked to me. “Probably the one who isn’t going to be charged with murder. Have a great rest of your day. Love the tomatoes.”
As the Carlisle clan strutted away I noticed Quinn watching us from where he stood, next to a stall where an old guy was selling fruit. When he saw me looking that way, he tipped his hat. I smiled in return.
After that I lost track of everything except closing up our stall for the day. Even though sales had fallen off later in the day, we had sold almost everything.
All three of us were loaded down with supplies as we made our way to the trolley. We were some of the last to leave. I had even lost track of Quinn.
I was juggling three bags of fruit. Lowe was trying to hold onto the flowers she hadn’t sold. My grandmother was carrying the vegetables. On top of the fruit, I also had the table on which our wares had been displayed.
As we walked along, another cart flew in front of me, making me react so suddenly that I dropped the table. It was all I could do not to drop and ruin the fruit.
As I stood there in consternation, Quinn stepped out from behind a nearby building and grabbed up the table I had dropped.
Flustered, I tried to re-balance and re-juggle everything I was trying to carry.
When I looked at my grandmother and Lowe, they were moving forward again. Right before my grandmother turned away so that I couldn’t see her expression, I noticed a sly smile.
“Need help?” Quinn asked.
“Do I looked like I need help?” I snapped. My neck felt hot and I was embarrassed.
“Yes. I said I’d have questions for you today. Maybe we can trade. I’ll carry the table and you can answer my questions,” he said.
“Sure. Fine. I’ll answer all the questions I don’t have answers to,” I muttered. “Let’s go.”
&n
bsp; I stalked off without him.
The crunch of his footsteps behind me told me that he was following. When we caught up to my family, my grandmother acted as if his presence wasn’t unusual.
“What did you think of the market?” Lowe asked him.
“Good. The vegetables are always incredible. I thought it got a bit lively for my taste at a couple of points,” he said.
“What could you possibly mean?” my grandmother asked.
We were standing on the platform. As some of the last to leave the market, we were there alone. I liked that just fine. It gave us some privacy to talk.
“This is always a hard time of year. Passing deportment is a big deal. I know all of the families worry about future generations being part of the coven. But the weather is finally nice, so that’s something,” he said, and squinted up at the bright sky.
The trolley came and we headed home. All the way we kept the subjects we discussed pleasant. When we were finally walking up our lane I could see Lisa and Lucky out on their porch, each holding an iced drink. Sporting a cowboy hat and a grin, Lisa raised her glass to me. When she caught sight of who was with us, her smile widened.
She pushed herself out of her chair and sauntered down the porch as far as the end of her dilapidated gate, but not through it. “Afternoon. How was the farmers market?”
“It’s about the same as always. We brought more stuff home than usual,” said Lowe.
“I heard there was a bit of excitement,” she said.
“Nothing we can’t handle,” said my grandmother.
Without waiting to see what else Lucky had to say, my grandmother turned and walked back toward our house. She was greeted by a parade of cats. As usual, Tiger stood by, looking stately.
Quinn followed us into the house. Finally out of the sun, my grandmother took off her hat and asked, “Tea? Iced tea? A glitter-covered muzzle?” She was playing the gracious hostess, with a twist.
Lowe said she’d get everything together. Quinn declined the muzzle. I excused myself to go wash up after the long morning. I needed a minute to fix my hair and maybe brush my teeth.
Back in the kitchen after freshening up, I found that Lowe had made a pitcher of iced tea and was pouring it into glasses.
Quinn was staring out the back window, fascinated. “I always knew the only unicorn farm was here. I just never came to see it,” he said.
“Probably because I started a rumor around the village that anybody who came wouldn’t leave alive,” Bethel smiled.
Quinn chuckled. “I do seem to remember somebody saying something about that. I rarely listened to reason when I was younger, though.”
“What other questions do you have to ask about my sister?” I asked.
My grandmother glared at me. She had wanted to make pleasant conversation, maybe lull the sheriff into a false sense of calm. I shrugged at her. I was hot and tired and I wanted to put my feet up. I couldn’t do that until Quinn left, plus I didn’t see the point of evasion.
“We had eyewitnesses that placed her at the scene of the crime. More importantly, everyone who was in her deportment class said that she and Jonathan didn’t get along. We have combed through Jonathan’s background, and as far we have been able to discover, found no one that he didn’t get along with. Except Ethel,” he said.
I didn’t like hearing that. Not one bit. Still, it was something I could sink my teeth into.
“Do you have any physical evidence? Fights don’t always lead to murder. Most families can attest to that,” I said.
I thought of my dad’s family, my stepmother and my stepsister above all. They sometimes fought viciously; they could go for weeks without speaking, especially when Bailey wanted something her mother denied her. In the end they always kissed and made up, after which they were even more annoying than they’d been before the fight.
“That’s true about families,” Quinn admitted. “But I can’t discuss the physical evidence we may or may not have. We’re still combing through everything we found at the crime scene.”
“What is it that you need from us?” my grandmother asked.
Just then there was a knock at the door.
“That’ll be Joy. I hope you don’t mind, but I told her to stop by,” Quinn said.
“I’ll get it,” said Lowe. She disappeared down the hall, and a moment later I heard voices, and my cousin reappeared with a tiny woman wearing a beret.
“Joy is the assistant sheriff. She’s the best in the business. We’ve worked together for years,” said Quinn.
This was the first time I had seen the woman up close. She looked about the same as she had in the dream, with rounded cheeks and bright eyes. The set of her jaw said that she was determined and not a woman to be crossed.
Well, she was in good company here at my grandmother’s house, I’ll say that much.
She was carrying a brown box, on top of which was a clipboard with scrawled green writing on it.
“May I set this down?” she asked my grandmother.
Bethel indicated the table.
“Here are some of the physical items we wanted you to look at,” Joy explained.
“They belonged to Ethel?” I asked, stepping forward.
“Maybe,” said Quinn.
I frowned as Joy removed the top of the box with a flourish. The first thing I saw inside it was a blanket with a large V scrawled onto it. I had never seen such a thing before; it looked like something in which you might drape a prom king.
Bethel and Lowe leaned in to look as Joy removed the blanket.
“This is what Jonathan’s head was cushioned by when we found him,” she said. “Do you recognize it?”
“No, definitely not.” Lowe recoiled a bit upon finding out the origins of the blanket.
“There’s no blood on it,” Joy assured us.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw that Quinn wasn’t looking at the blanket. He was looking at us.
Next, she pulled out something black that looked like a wand. I was surprised, because I thought witches didn’t use them.
“What about this?” asked Joy.
“Looks like one of those joke shop wands,” said my grandmother.
“So you don’t recognize it?” Quinn asked.
“We are one of the coven families. We do not deal with wands,” she sniffed.
“Here’s the last item,” said Joy. She pulled out a small white trinket box. I nearly gasped. To cover my shock, I started to pretend to choke.
“This was the last item we found,” said Joy.
“Where?” I croaked out.
My grandmother gave me a sharp look. My reaction worried her.
“We can’t tell you where exactly we found it. Do you recognize it?” Joy asked. She opened it and my heart nearly stopped. Inside the box was empty.
“We don’t recognize it. I’ve never seen a box like that before,” said Bethel.
Joy glanced at Quinn. Something in the air had changed. We had tolerated this visit long enough. My grandmother was clearly done with the interview.
“Look, sheriff, as we’ve made clear . . .” she started to say.
“I know. I know. You don’t know where Ethel is. You also don’t recognize the items that might belong to her. I’ve heard,” said Quinn with a slight smile.
“We just needed your verification that you don’t recognize any of the items,” said Joy. “I believe we got it.”
“I don’t suppose that’ll remove Ethel as a suspect or anything magical like that,” said my grandmother.
“No. We aren’t at that point just yet,” said Quinn. “Thank you for the iced tea.”
“I’ll show you out,” said Lowe with considerably more relish than she’d shown when she offered to let Joy in.
Quinn hadn’t been fooled. His eyes never left my face. He knew I was lying.
I might have just sealed Ethel’s fate.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A blustery Sunday found the three Rhinestone witches sitting
around the fire in the living room.
“I rarely come in here,” said Bethel, looking around with delight. “I’m usually eating either a meal or a snack, and that must happen before I bring any food to the living room.”
“I like this room. It’s not that far from the kitchen,” said Lowe. She was trying to crochet a magical blanket and concentrating very hard on her task. She had been at this particular endeavor since I arrived, but she hadn’t made much progress.
Bethel was a master at crocheting and kept trying to help her. Lowe wanted to be super well prepared for her own deportment classes the following year.
Meanwhile, I was looking at various trinkets my grandmother had pulled out of storage. She had several necklaces packed away that I liked. It turned out that witches keep all of their old ones’ jewelry, so there was quite a stash to choose from.
“I heard some gossip about Jonathan yesterday,” said Lowe.
Bethel looked at her sharply. “Oh? What was that?”
“I heard that he was involved in something illegal before he died. He was using his teaching duties as a cover for whatever it was. I’m not sure how,” she said.
My grandmother sighed and looked at the crackling fire. “It might give someone else a motive to kill him. Unfortunately, it’s just gossip.”
“What sort of illegal activities could he be involved in?” I wanted to know.
My grandmother scoffed. “There are plenty of illegal activities around here. Not usually hard crime. Murder hasn’t happened, as I’ve said. Just stealing, trading. There’s a black market for magical ingredients. The crime lords are big on trading in cricket legs. They’re a delicacy, because they stabilize a lot of advanced potion recipes.”
I blanched. “How do they get cricket legs?”
“The fields beyond the swamp. They have to contend with the swamp creatures, but apparently they have a deal with them. I’m not sure what it is, but the swamp creatures definitely get paid well for allowing access to the fields beyond the swamp.”
“The poor crickets,” I muttered.
“I never saw Jonathan near the marshes. He wouldn’t want to dirty his boots,” said Lowe.
“Who buys the cricket legs?” I asked.
Pointy Hats and Witchy Cats Page 14
