by K E O'Connor
“I was trying not to look,” I said with a grimace.
The door to the house opened. Isadora stood there, her eyes looking glazed and her hair unbrushed.
“Hi, is this a bad time?”
Isadora blinked at me, and her eyes snapped into focus. “No! Sorry, I was expecting you. Mannie said you were stopping by. I’m in the middle of writing a new chapter of a book and got distracted. Please, come in.” She stepped to one side, and we walked into a dark oak hallway.
“You’re working on something new?” I asked as we followed her along the hallway and into a cream colored lounge.
“I’m always working on something,” Isadora said. “Too many ideas in my head, that’s the trouble. I’m promoting my new book, but my focus is on one I’m yet to write. It’s always the same. Take a seat. Would you like some tea?”
“If it comes with cake,” Wiggles said.
Isadora scratched her head. “Oh, I’m afraid not. The cupboards are bare. I keep meaning to go out and get something, but with everything that’s going on, I’m not sure whether I’m coming or going.” She ran her hands through her hair before perching on the edge of the seat opposite me.
“I understand how distressing this is,” I said. “Gretel’s murder, the book launch being postponed, the museum opening on hold.”
Tears filled Isadora’s eyes. “My hard work could be ruined. I spent years working on that book. I worked long hours, only slept maybe five hours a night for months leading up to its release, checking final proofs and double-checking the facts to make sure nobody could complain that I got something wrong. Then Mannie came along with his proposal about the museum. At first, I thought it was wonderful. My historical teachings coming to life in a museum to share with everybody.”
“That’s a lot of pressure.” I noticed Isadora hadn’t mentioned Gretel’s murder and how distressing that was.
“I let my ego take over my senses,” Isadora said. “I wanted everyone to know about my work. I understand that not everybody reads books, but a museum is a wonderful, interactive way for people to learn. I couldn’t turn Mannie down and came on board to consult on the project. It got so big, so fast. I’d expected a couple of exhibits, not a whole museum full of history, and for Mannie to use my research as inspiration for it all.”
“You’ll still be able to launch your book, though,” I said.
“We have thousands of copies printed, so I hope so.” Isadora sighed. “Seth’s working on a new deal and finding other ways to generate a buzz about the book.”
“Gretel’s murder will generate plenty of buzz.”
Isadora clasped her hands together. “Yes, I suppose it will. Not the right sort, though.”
“Isadora, I’ve been checking over your schedule.” Jonah stopped in the doorway, a sheet of paper in his hand. “Oh! I didn’t know you had guests.”
“Come in, Jonah,” Isadora said. “This is Tempest Crypt. You might remember her from the museum opening. She’s helping with the investigation into what happened that night.”
Jonah nodded. “Nice to see you again. Can I get you anything?”
“I don’t suppose you’ve got any cookies?” Isadora asked. “I need something sweet to calm my nerves.”
Jonah smiled. “Of course. While you were busy in your room this morning, I went out and got a few provisions. How about I make everyone coffee and cookies?”
“You’re an angel,” Isadora said. “Leave me the schedule, and I’ll take a look at everything.”
Jonah passed her the sheet of paper before hurrying out.
Isadora watched him go. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without him. Jonah’s so organized, whereas I’m so...” She waved her hand around. “Sometimes, I forget to brush my teeth I’m so caught up in my work.”
“Has Jonah been with you long?”
“Five years. I’d be a disorganized mess without him.”
Jonah returned with the coffee and cookies and poured cups for us all before leaving and pulling the door shut.
I took a sip of my coffee. “Is your new book also on the history of magic?”
“Yes, it’s what I specialize in. I find the past much more interesting than the present. But I will be including a chapter on modern day witchcraft.”
“Not our kind of magic?” I asked.
Isadora’s smile was benign. “No, our secrets will remain safe. There’ll be no mention of the magic associated with Willow Tree Falls or anyone who lives here. I find an increasing number of people, who have no magic ability, turn to our ways. The modern world leaves people wanting for something, and they think knowing about magic will help them.”
“Were you working with Gretel on your new book?”
“Gretel hasn’t got the patience to write a book. I consulted with her a few times on my book, and we worked together on the museum, but that’s as far as our collaboration goes.”
“What was your working relationship like?”
Isadora tilted her head as she dunked a cookie in her coffee. “I respected Gretel. She was dedicated to historical accuracy.”
“She was a pedant?”
A smile filtered across Isadora’s face. “It could be annoying at times. Gretel had this ability to rub people up the wrong way. She didn’t do it deliberately, but she could be spiky. Borderline rude.”
“Did you tell her that her behavior was inappropriate?”
“Tell Gretel Le Strange how to behave?” Isadora shook her head. “I’m not that brave. She was a no-nonsense sort of woman. Her passion for history meant that she cared for nothing else. She never married. Never had a family of her own. Her work was her life. Gretel didn’t mind if she offended someone by telling them they were wrong. All she cared about was historical accuracy. She had my professional respect, and until recently, I thought we were friends of sorts.”
I took a cookie and broke a small piece off for Wiggles, who’d been begging by my knee ever since they’d arrived. “What happened to end your friendship?”
“My new book,” Isadora said, “the one that’s about to be released. I talked through the idea with her years ago, and she supported my efforts. She said it would be a worthy addition to current literature.”
“She changed her mind?”
“When she saw an advance copy, Gretel called it a work of fiction.” Isadora’s mouth turned down. “She said it shouldn’t be on the historical shelves. It was a joke. I couldn’t believe it at first. It isn’t fiction. It’s full of factual information and has source references to support my ideas. I insisted she apologize.”
“That didn’t go down well?”
Isadora sighed. “Gretel refused. She said she’d have no part in this book and couldn’t endorse it. In fact, she went as far as to say that she’d recommend people didn’t waste their time on it. That was spiteful and unnecessary. After that, I stopped talking to her.”
“Which must have been difficult, since you were working on the museum together,” I said.
“We had our moments, but most of the work was done. Gretel was stomping around barking at everybody and telling them they were doing things wrong, and I left her to it. I was ready to launch the book and leave as soon as possible. It doesn’t look like that will happen now.”
I sipped my coffee, and my gaze went to a stack of boxes in the corner of the room. “Are your books in those boxes?”
Isadora nodded. She stood and collected a copy before handing it to me. “You can have it autographed if you like.”
I flicked open the first page. “Thanks. Do you focus on particular magic topics?”
“I mention it all. I’ve always been most interested in the history of witchcraft and how others have treated witches.”
Isadora grabbed her own copy before returning to her seat. “Take a look at the chapter headings. You’ll see I focus on different periods when magic was acknowledged and what happened to send it underground and lead to the establishment of places like Willow Tree Falls. Not that I
mention the village, but to those without abilities, they simply believe that magic transformed into something more benign. Something that could never affect them.”
“There’s nothing benign about what goes on here.” I scanned the chapter headings. “Death of the witches?” I flipped to that chapter.
“We all know about the persecution of our kind,” Isadora said. “And the specific methods used when forcing confessions from witches or killing them so they couldn’t return and terrorize the local villagers. Not that we ever would.”
I scanned the text before flipping the page. My eyes widened as I saw a picture of a witch on a ducking stool. “Is the museum exhibit modeled on your description?”
“That’s right. There were five main ways to kill a witch. The ducking stool was used to force confessions and see if the woman was a witch. The ridiculous thing about that was, if she drowned and floated, then she wasn’t a witch.”
I grimaced. “I never understood that. If she lives, she’s a witch, so they’d kill her anyway. If she drowns, she’s not, and an innocent person dies.”
“Exactly. The second method is stoning. The witch was crushed to death by heavy stones. Then there’s hanging, which was the most common way to kill a witch. Everyone thinks it was burning at the stake, but that was rare. Hanging was the most popular method but is rarely talked about. I guess it’s not glamorous. There’s also being trapped behind a wall and bricked in. That was even rarer but equally unpleasant.”
“And there’ll be a museum exhibit of each of these methods of killing?” I asked.
“Yes, the ducking stool was our pièce de résistance because it’s so stark and dramatic. There will also be an exhibit of a witch buried under stones. You’ll see glimpses of the witch underneath, with a hand sticking out. It’s gory, but it happened. We have to portray the past accurately. We can’t learn and change if we don’t know what we did wrong.”
I stared at the picture in the book of the witch on the ducking stool. The way the body was posed in the stool was just like Gretel had been left. She’d been slumped forward, her hair covering her face. Her legs had been in the water, and her hands tucked in her lap. It was eerily accurate.
“How many people have seen this image?” I asked Isadora.
“Me, of course, the illustrator, and everyone who works for me, the publishers. Mannie and Gretel have seen a finished copy, but I don’t know if they’ve looked through it all. The public hasn’t seen it yet. The book doesn’t go on general sale for another week. Why do you ask?”
“It might be nothing, but Gretel’s death looks like this picture, even down to the way her hands were placed.”
Isadora’s eyes widened. “Do you think the killer used that picture as the inspiration to murder Gretel?”
“That’s something only they can answer. Looking at this picture, I instantly thought of Gretel.”
“I trust everyone I work with. It makes no sense that the publishing house would have anything to do with this. No one from the company was at the museum event, so they can’t be involved. It must be a coincidence.”
I closed the book. “Do you mind if I keep hold of this?”
“No, call it a gift. It might be the only one I give away any time soon if the museum launch is scuppered.”
I nodded. There was still no sign of sadness from Isadora about Gretel’s murder. “Returning to your publishing company, I’ve heard legal rumblings about the book.”
Isadora pressed her lips together. “What have you been told?”
“Gretel wasn’t happy with some information in the book and was considering legal action.”
Isadora waved her hand in the air. “I know what you’re talking about, but everything’s under control. Gretel was causing a fuss, but it was about nothing. Seth’s looking into it. The book launch won’t be delayed by Gretel’s unreasonable behavior.”
Gretel definitely wouldn’t delay anything now since she was dead. “What was Gretel unhappy about?”
Isadora sighed. “Nothing. Silly details. Things that no one else cared about.”
I raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue.
Isadora huffed out a breath. “Factual inaccuracy, but everything was inaccurate as far as Gretel was concerned. She’d find faults where there were no faults to be had. My team is excellent at what they do. Her complaints were small wrinkles that are being ironed out.”
“And now Gretel’s not around, anything she was planning to do won’t happen,” I said. That was an excellent motive for wanting Gretel dead. If she’d been threatening to take Isadora to court because of this book, Isadora would be desperate to prevent that from happening.
“With everything that’s gone on between me and Gretel, I can’t say I’m shedding tears over her death. She was slowing everything down and making everybody stressed. With her gone, it removes roadblocks, and that includes her questioning my research. I wasn’t afraid to go up against her in court. If she’d pursued it, I would have won the battle. Gretel was in the wrong.”
I drank more coffee. Isadora seemed confident about her book, but her dislike of Gretel and the problems she was causing her had jumped Isadora to the top of my list of suspects.
“What were you doing on the night of Gretel’s murder?”
“The same as everybody else involved with the museum,” Isadora said. “I stayed there until around eight in the evening, came back here, and had a late dinner with Jonah, and then had an early night. I wanted to be ready for my big launch.”
“Was Jonah with you the whole evening?”
“We were in the house together, but after dinner, I went to my room. I didn’t see him after that. You can confirm with him that we had dinner together.” Isadora checked the time and jumped from her seat. “Oh! I’m so sorry, but I must get back to work. I’m expecting a report to arrive that I must read for a new chapter in my book. Do you have any more questions for me, or is that enough information?”
“No, thanks. That’s been helpful,” I said. “Do you have plans to stay in Willow Tree Falls for much longer?”
“If we can get the museum launch going again quickly, we’ll stick around and try for book launch part two.” Isadora clasped her hands together. “Mannie assured me everything will be ready to go by the end of the week.”
“It might take longer than that,” I said. “We must make sure we find out what happened to Gretel.”
“Oh, do you think so?” Isadora’s shoulders drooped. “I need quiet time to focus on my new book. Trying to work in a strange place is unsettling.”
“You do want us to catch the murderer, don’t you?”
Her eyes widened, and she blinked at me. “Of course. But you can’t think anyone here did it. We all had our differences with Gretel, but none of us are killers. We’re researchers, historians. Book nerds. We’re not murderers.”
I patted the book she gave me. “I look forward to reading this.”
Isadora’s smile was tentative as she led me and Wiggles to the door. “I hope you enjoy it.” She opened the door, and after saying goodbye, I walked away with Wiggles.
“Isadora seemed nervous,” Wiggles said.
“She did. And she couldn’t have cared less about what happened to Gretel. All she was worried about was people taking her book seriously and selling a ton of them.”
“She’s one of those typical professor types,” Wiggles said. “The ones that have their brains engaged in something else, even when they’re talking to you. She kept getting a weird, faraway look in her eye when you were asking her questions. It’s like she can access a part of her brain us mere mortals can’t.”
“Or she was trying to hide her guilt,” I said. “Isadora has a lousy alibi. Even with Jonah in the house, it would have been easy for her to sneak out and go back to the museum when it got late. She had a lot to lose, and Gretel was a massive problem for her.”
We reached the end of the lane, and I slowed when I heard rustling coming from a nearby bush.
“That sounds like a big rabbit.” Wiggles’ eyes glowed as he stared at the swaying bush beside us.
“I don’t think it’s anything you want to eat.” I heard a muttered curse from behind the bush.
Jonah pushed his way through the bush, brushing leaves off his pullover. “Tempest, I’m glad I caught you before you went too far. I have to talk to you. There’s something wrong with Isadora.”
Chapter 12
I approached Jonah, noting the worry on his face. “What’s wrong with Isadora?”
He glanced back toward the house. “I didn’t want to say anything while you were inside in case Isadora overheard. It’s why I snuck out when you left. She thinks I worry too much, but I’m around her all the time, and I’m really concerned.”
“Does her stress have to do with Gretel’s murder?”
Jonah shook his head. “They didn’t get along, but Gretel being out of the picture is a good thing for everyone. The problem is this book that’s about to launch. It’s been Isadora’s obsession for years. Five years of almost full-time research to make sure it’s the best book ever written on the history of witchcraft and magic. It’s like her baby, her one true love. Now, she can see everything she’s worked for collapsing around her. She’s falling apart because of it.”
“It’s her book launch worrying her?”
He nodded. “She’s not sleeping. I hear her at night, pacing her room and talking to herself. She’s never been like this before. Isadora does get anxious before a deadline, but that’s normal. This is a new level of stress.”
“Isadora sounds obsessed,” I said.
Jonah wrung his hands together. “She’s got a right to be. It’s a masterpiece. You should read that copy and see for yourself.” He nodded at the book in my hand.
“I’m planning to. Do you do any of the research for her?”
“No, I’m her personal assistant, not a researcher. I do everything to ensure Isadora’s daily life is as smooth as possible and she can focus on her passion. I’m on call all the time. Whether it’s making sure there are cookies in the cupboard or reminding her of her dental appointments.”