by Ada Bell
You’re being silly, I told myself. This is a public place and it’s open for business.
P is for Plutonium. K is for Potassium. Z is for—
“Hello, there!”
I jumped about a foot at the sound. Looking around, I found a black man with a head full of thin, graying braids that touched his chin. His mouth appeared to be set in a perpetual smile. “Mr. Patel? You work here?”
My neighbor grinned at me. “Please, call me Garrett. My daughter owns this place, but we’ve been open by appointment only since her divorce. She’s in Europe ‘finding herself.’ It’s a good thing you caught me. Rajini still needs to be careful of her bad ankle, and I have my restaurant in Willow Falls.”
Right. That’s why he was rarely home. When I moved in, our baby-sitter had been the most active sixty-year-old I’d ever met. She’d signed up to run the New York City marathon this year wearing a mask. Her skiing incident a few weeks ago sidelined her, but I strongly suspected she still intended to race unless someone physically stopped her.
“She’s a force of nature,” I said. “Kyle adores her.”
“And she adores him.” He grinned at me. “But you didn’t come in to chat. Can I help you find something?”
I hesitated. “I’m wondering what you can tell me about love spells.”
“Love spells?” His eyebrows knit together as he frowned at me. “That’s dangerous stuff. Love can turn to obsession too easily. If that’s what you want, I can’t help you.”
“It’s not for me,” I blurted out. “I mean, I’m not trying to perform a love spell. I’m here to do research.”
“Sounds like you helping someone else would make things even more dangerous. The blind leading the blind, as they say.”
This wasn’t working. I supposed I could feed him the same “doing research” line I’d been giving everyone else, but I sensed that if I wanted anything from Garrett, I needed to be straight with him. He was working at his daughter’s magic shop, so he must be pretty open-minded.
By the time I finished explaining what I was doing there, the suspicious look on his face had been replaced with one of concern.
“My wife and daughter are the real experts, but I’ve been around for a long time. Olive’s always been a good customer. Let me see.” He moved his glasses down to the tip of his nose and held my phone at arms’ length.
Finally, he shook his head. “No, that’s not love spell stuff. Love spells use canary feathers, and these are crow. Crows are too moody for love. Too much discontent. That’s not the type of relationship most people want. And he’d need rose petals, not rose thorns. Anyone tried a love spell with this batch of ingredients, they’d just scare their intended away.”
“Are you sure? He was using a fertility goddess.”
“What better than a love goddess to help erase feelings of love?”
The words hit me like a thunderbolt. Discontent. Not wanting to get married. An overly amorous partner. Erasing love.
The spell was for Thelma.
It just wasn’t for love.
Chapter 16
Living in a small town had its perks. Earl lived on “the other side” of Shady Grove—about two miles from home, a mile from Missing Pieces. I could be there soon, sooner if I borrowed Olive’s bicycle, which was parked behind the store. She wasn’t going to be using it, but just in case, I texted Maria for permission. In an instant, she told me to do whatever I needed. I appreciated her faith in me. Not just Maria, the entire family. With all my heart, I hoped I wouldn’t let them down.
There was no way I was going to pick up a used bicycle helmet from the store and put it on my head, so I decided to risk going without. Sure, I might get a ticket or bash my head in. But at least I wouldn’t be having hallucinations while traveling across town.
As I rode down Main Street, I remembered Kyle. More specifically, I remembered that Kevin’s bowling league had a memorial for Earl tonight. Mrs. Patel was going to give my nephew dinner and watch him until I got off work. I’d promised to bring home a special dessert to make up for not being home as much the past week. The bike came to a screeching halt in front of Let’s Bake a Deal, the town bakery. They had delicious baked goods, but unfortunately, as I learned on my first day in town, the owner didn’t actually barter. When I’d pointed out what “making a deal” meant, Tony suggested I sue him for false advertising.
Now that I thought about it, I’d prefer not to go in there, but desperate times. I couldn’t carry ice cream cones on a bicycle, the corner store didn’t sell fresh baked goods, and I didn’t have time to take Kevin’s car over to Willow Falls. Four minutes later, I placed a gorgeous chocolate cake in the basket of Olive’s bike before continuing to Earl’s house.
Now that I’d decided to break in, I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow. For one thing, if I went home and thought about it, I might chicken out. Besides, the longer I took to find the killer, the longer poor Olive would sit in jail. Not to mention, since psychic imprints weren’t proof, I’d have to convince Sheriff Matthews once I figured out who did it. That would be a fun conversation.
“Hey, Sheriff, I know who killed Earl!”
“Oh, yeah? How?”
“I had a vision. I know what you’re thinking, that visions aren’t real. And a week ago, I would have agreed with you. Turns out, I’m a psychic.”
“There’s no such thing as a psychic.”
“See, I thought so, too. Always felt like just a normal girl. But I assure you, I really am psychic. Just, you know, a normal psychic. Oh, and I like science.”
I’d probably get that MRI I’d been thinking about all week, because Sheriff Matthews would definitely call in the medical professionals. No, I needed to find something concrete, fast.
If I got lucky and the real murder weapon was in Earl’s house somewhere, I could use whatever it told me to confront the murderer. Preferably in public, on video, surrounded by heavily armed men and/or martial arts experts.
With every minute that ticked by, I grew more nervous. What exactly did I think I was doing?
Saving a friend, I told myself firmly. And then celebrating with cake.
Number 19 is potassium. Number 20 is calcium.
Since I didn’t want anyone to see me, I turned off the main road into the entrance for the golf course that ran behind Earl’s and Thelma’s backyards. Kevin had a membership, which meant I could visit any time I wanted. Thanks, Bro. We didn’t use it often, but he liked to have a place he could meet wealthier clients who traveled up from the city, and I liked the children’s programs that let me hang out by the pool for an hour a day last summer while someone else watched Kyle. I loved that kid with all my heart, but sometimes a girl needed a break.
No one paid any attention to me when I turned onto the path leading to the greens. The actual golfing was closed due to the mountains of snow everywhere, but the club cleared the trails for those weirdos who liked to exercise outside in the winter. I was free to walk or ride along the paths until the club closed when the sun set. Considering it was January, that would be around four o’clock in the afternoon, so there was no time to waste. It was already almost three-thirty.
I’d made it to the fifth hole before I realized that I didn’t have the first clue where Earl’s house was relative to the golf course or what it looked like. All I knew was what I’d been told: there were trees separating the backyard from the greens. Considering that trees surrounded the Shady Grove Golf Club—not to mention most of the town—that wasn’t terribly helpful.
If they’d left the police tape up, I could probably find Earl’s place, but otherwise I was flying blind. This realization brought me to a dead halt, so fast I nearly catapulted over the handlebars. The cake lunged forward, but thankfully, I avoided tragedy by catching it.
A quick text to Sam resolved my problem. He gave me the address, even better, without asking why I wanted it. Between that and Google maps, I soon knew exactly which house
belonged to Earl. More importantly, Streetview showed me Thelma's house. It has been painted an eye-searing shade of Pepto-Bismol pink, which made it super easy to find the house next door. I was at least a quarter mile away when I spotted her split-level home.
Unfortunately, houses do not list their addresses on the back, so I didn’t immediately know which of Thelma’s neighbors’ houses to break into. One hundred percent, I didn’t want to pick the wrong one. Back to Google. The internet told me that Earl lived in a three-bedroom ranch. The house on the other side of Thelma’s was a four-bedroom colonial with a walkout basement. It didn’t take much to differentiate between the two.
Since I couldn’t pedal through the row of trees, I left my bike on the path and inched toward the line between the properties. It hadn’t snowed since Earl died, so I anticipated an easy dash across his back yard to the door. As soon as I exited the trees, I realized my error. It hadn’t snowed since Earl passed. It had, however, snowed on Wednesday morning, before I applied at Missing Pieces. The temperature hadn’t risen above freezing since. Thirty pristine feet of snow stretched between the bike trail where I stood and Earl’s back door.
The killer hadn’t entered the house from the golf course. It was very apparent from this vantage point that the murderer had exactly two viable options: The first was the plowed driveway and walked up the path to the front door. I couldn’t see the walk, so I had no idea whether it had been cleared. But even if it wasn’t, with Sam’s visit and packages and mail and grocery deliveries and everything, it would be impossible to even identify one complete set of footprints in the snow, much less figure out who they belonged to. That was a dead end.
Alternatively, the killer could have used the path leading from Thelma’s back door to Earl’s, which someone had shoveled before he died. That was the path Thelma took when she went to get him for dinner, and they presumably went back and forth often. If that was the entry point, the killer was either Thelma or someone with access to her house.
Then again, this was Shady Grove, where businesses didn’t lock their doors at the end of the day. The entire town could have access to Thelma’s house for all I knew.
I needed to get into the house. Unfortunately, I couldn’t go this way. If Thelma looked out her kitchen window, she’d see a clean line of footprints across the backyard that hadn’t been there an hour ago. If she didn’t call the police immediately, she’d come to investigate. Either way, I’d have to see someone I preferred to avoid.
With a sigh, I retraced my path out of the golf course, resigned to approach the house from the front and hope no one saw me breaking in.
I came to a halt in Earl’s driveway a few minutes later. Darkness had started to fall while I cycled around, and he thankfully didn’t have automatic lights or motion detectors. The streetlights already gave me more exposure than I wanted, but there was nothing I could do about it. If I parked the bike behind the garage, at least it shouldn’t be visible from Thelma’s house. I knew nothing about Earl’s other neighbor, but it was a necessary risk.
I’d made it exactly five steps wheeling the bike up the driveway before a voice stopped me.
“You there! What are you doing?”
A wave of dread hit me at the sound of her voice. I turned slowly, hoping that I’d imagined it. No such luck. Standing on the sidewalk not five feet away, hands on her hips, was Thelma.
Chapter 17
What horrific luck. All I’d wanted was to get in, find the murder weapon, then go home and watch kiddie movies on the couch with Kyle while we snuggled and ate junk food. The perfect evening. But I should’ve known there was zero chance I’d manage to get into the house without Thelma’s eagle eyes on me unless I’d had someone lure her away first.
On the other hand, this was a great time to get some information. From what I knew about Thelma, she was happy to talk about anything and everything to anyone who would listen. That might help me.
Unless she killed Earl. At the moment, she was my top (only?) suspect. If she knew Earl had been flirting with Julie, that gave her a strong motive. I didn’t want to go anywhere near her. I didn’t want her to realize what I was doing here, or how close I (thought I) was to proving that she was a killer. Better to play it cool and leave as soon as possible.
With a smile I hoped looked sincere, I stepped toward her. “Thelma! I’m glad you came home before I left.”
“I don’t live here.” She pointed to the house next door, which to be honest, did look a lot more like the home of a former soap opera star. All ivy and trellises and a rose garden and pink. So much pink. Had I truly been looking for Thelma’s house, I should have known it wasn’t the fairly nondescript ranch house with a sagging porch and peeling brown paint.
“You mean I almost knocked on the wrong door? How embarrassing. Listen, I brought you a cake.”
Her narrowed eyes widened the smallest crack. “Cake?”
“From Let’s Bake a Deal. Vanilla with chocolate frosting.” Kyle was going to throw a fit when I came home empty-handed. But if I went to jail for breaking and entering, I wouldn’t be coming home at all, so he’d get over it.
“Oh, yum! Tony is an amazing baker!” Either she’d accepted my lie about being at the wrong house, or she wanted cake badly enough to overlook it. “Please, please come in.”
Snow covered both lawns, so I followed the driveway back down to the sidewalk before heading over to Thelma’s place.
“What a beautiful house. I love the color,” I lied as I followed her into the house, stamped the snow off my boots and left them by the doorway.
Thelma took the cake I’d promised my nephew into the kitchen and told me to have a seat on the couch. A moment later she returned carrying a tray with a teapot, cups with saucers, and plates holding two not-big-enough slices of cake. Sometimes Shady Grove felt antiquated, but I loved living in a place where people regularly served tea on trays that also held baked goods. I could get used to this. I made a mental note to buy myself a tea set after I’d gotten a few paychecks. New, of course.
“That was fast!”
“A little secret, dear. Always have a kettle on. You never know when company might drop by. Case in point.”
“You’re not worried about burning your house down?”
“Oh, no! You’re so dramatic.” She placed one hand on her chest in a way that left me itching to point out the irony. “Anyway, what can I help you with?”
You could go away and leave me to break into Earl’s house to look for clues. When I’d pretended that Thelma was the person I’d come to see, I hadn’t thought things through. Like, why I’d possibly want to see someone I barely knew and who kept calling my boss a murderer. Thinking fast, I stuffed a bite of cake into my mouth.
Oh, my goodness, that was amazing. So good. Moist, buttery cake with a creamy chocolate frosting that melted on my tongue. Not helping me figure out what to say, but utterly delicious.
Finally, I decided to play on Thelma’s love for being the center of attention. It seemed the best way to get her talking. “I wanted to see how you were doing. Finding Earl must have come as quite a shock.”
“Oh, you have no idea.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. “My doctor almost had to prescribe anti-anxiety medication. Can you imagine?”
I cleared my throat. “Research shows that anti-anxiety medication has been extremely eff…Ahem. I mean, this cake is fantastic!”
“Yes, thank you for bringing it.”
Now that she was softened up a bit, I decided to see what she would tell me. The trip didn’t have to be wasted just because she’d stopped me from getting into Earl’s house. As long as she didn’t know I suspected her, it should be fine.
“Can you tell me what happened? You went next door for dinner on Wednesday, right?”
She glared at me. “I appreciate the cake, but I know someone digging for gossip when I see it. I may be old, but I’m no old fool.”
Oop
s. So much for easing into things. Not knowing what else to say, I grasped for the excuse I’d given at the bowling alley earlier in the week. “My apologies. I didn’t know if you’d talk to me knowing the real reason I’m here. The thing is, I really want to be a true crime podcaster. I’m starting college soon, and one of my classes requires us to follow a real crime. I thought if I picked something both local and personal to me, the teacher would be more inclined to give me a good grade.”
“What’s a podcast?”
“It’s like a radio show, but online.” I pulled out the one thing that might get her to help me. “If I use this case for my presentation, you’d be the star of my class. You could even come in to talk to everyone about what happened.”
“Okay, fine,” she said. “I might as well tell you what everyone already knows.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate it.” As long as I didn’t have to actually sign up for a course on podcasting, which I didn’t even know if Maloney College offered. It would be an odd choice for a small science-minded college.
Thelma waved one hand, dismissing my words, then settled into her story. “Earl and I had a date. I spent all day roasting a turkey for him, to celebrate him winning the bowling tournament last week. Roasted turkey is his favorite, and I wanted to make it right away, but it’s so hard to find something this side of the holidays, you know? Luckily I had one in my freezer downstairs, but it takes days to defrost. You can’t rush a turkey.”
“What time did you go over there?”
“Quarter after six,” she said. “He was supposed to get here early to set the table, but he hadn’t arrived yet. Earl was never late. We always ate at six o’clock sharp. He didn’t answer the phone, so I decided to pop over and see what was keeping him.”
“Do you have a key?”
She shrugged. “I don’t need a key. Earl always left his doors open.”
My ears perked up. “Really? Who else knew that?”
“Um… the mailman, the milk delivery boy, the UPS driver….” She continued listing names, ticking them off on her fingers. “Plus all our friends. This isn’t New York City. No one locks their doors.”