Witch Hunt

by Cate Conte

  His head shot up. “What woman?”

  “The one in my shop this morning. You clearly recognized her,” I said. “Mazzy.” Her name tasted sour on my tongue.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Todd said, but he’d always been a bad liar.

  “Of course you do,” I said, with absolute certainty. His vibration screamed dishonesty right now, and it felt like yet another knife in my gut. “Who is she, Todd? Because I felt like she was definitely there for more than a crystal consult.”

  We stared at each other for a long moment, then he sighed and shook his head.

  “I told you I don’t know her. And I’m sorry about tonight,” he said. “I have no excuse, Vi. I meant to call earlier. But I got sidetracked and I honestly didn’t hear anything until someone turned on the news at work. And I didn’t hear anything about you until Pete told me, and I came right over.”

  “Yeah,” I said, trying to keep the quiver out of my voice. “And we all know how much your bar means to you.”

  He ignored that. “What happened at the police station?”

  “They wanted to know if I’d killed Carla, because everyone saw us shouting at each other this morning.”

  “Come on, Vi,” he said, as if I had imagined the whole thing. “That’s no reason to think you killed anyone.”

  “You think I don’t know that? I’m not the one suspecting me!” I was done talking to him. I reached for my door and jiggled the handle.

  Shoot. It had locked behind me, ruining my dramatic moment. I rapped on it.

  Fiona opened it a split second later, telling me she’d been listening the whole time. And I’d had enough. Of this day, and of all these people. I wanted to go to bed with Monty and pull the blankets over my head, with my rose quartz crystal under my pillow. Maybe tomorrow things would make more sense, or Carla wouldn’t be dead. This whole thing would be a bad joke or some fake reality show that someone was filming.

  “Okay,” I said. “Everyone out. I need you all to leave. Like, now. I need some peace and quiet and I need to process this craptastic day.”

  “But I’m still eating,” Zoe protested from the other side of the room.

  “Well, I’m sure you can conjure up a table and a chair somewhere.” I stepped aside, holding the door wide. “You too,” I said to Todd, when he continued to stare at me from the hallway.

  “Me?”

  “Yes! Everyone. What part of ‘everyone’ don’t you understand?”

  Todd frowned, but he seemed to know better than to argue with me. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Get some sleep.” He glanced at Fiona and mumbled, “Nice to meet you,” then fled down the hall. I heard the elevator ding a second later, then the sound of the doors sliding shut.

  I waited, looking at Fiona expectantly.

  Fiona offered me a tight smile. “He’s subpar, my dear. I hope it’s nothing serious.”

  I stomped my foot. “Out!”

  Fiona looked back at Zoe, gave a nod, then with a twitch of her head, the two of them vanished, leaving only a stream of glitter in their wake.

  Silly me. Of course they didn’t need me to hold the door. I waited a moment for them to show up again in another colored puff of smoke or something, but the apartment remained quiet. I locked the door, then leaned against it and closed my eyes. I felt bone-tired, as if I’d been awake for days. But the reality was, I’d slept most of the day away. And doing so had hurt me.

  Monty peeked out from under my bookcase, carefully checking to see if the coast was clear. When he was certain it was, he leaped into his window perch and settled in, one eye on the street below. The energy in the apartment had already shifted. The electric currents powering the air had subsided, and everything seemed to settle back into something normal, recognizable. I took a deep breath and strode to the bowl of stones I kept on my bookcase. My fingers automatically closed over one. When I opened my hand and looked at it, my stomach flipped. Moonstone. My name, apparently. I rubbed it between my palms, taking comfort in the smoothness of the stone, letting the healing power of the crystal take over.

  I thought about Fiona and Zoe vanishing in a puff of glittery smoke. I wondered how they did that. If they were really magical like they said, did that mean they could just conjure up their own signature exit and entry fanfare, kind of like the walk-on music celebs chose for their events? Or did it come ingrained in whatever powers they possessed?

  And did all this mean that I had some of these powers too?

  It was the question I’d been avoiding all night, ever since that niggle in the back of my brain suggested that my ending up at my old house tonight hadn’t been a dream or a hallucination. Maybe I had effectively beamed myself there, for lack of a better term, kind of like the way Zoe beamed her way into my bedroom earlier with her sushi.

  It seemed surreal.

  But I had bigger problems than my alleged family. Namely, Carla Fernandez and her tragic murder. Someone had killed her today, and my property was at the scene of the crime. And I was a suspect.

  Fiona was right about one thing. I had to figure out who killed Carla, if for no other reason than to save myself. But there was no way I was taking help from her, or from any magical source, if that was even a real thing. I needed to do it myself.

  So I’d better get to it.

  CHAPTER 22

  I picked up my phone, then put it down again, not sure who to call. I’d thrown Todd out, and he seemed to have other things on his mind tonight anyway. I could call Josie, but I didn’t want to worry her. I also didn’t want to explain the Fiona and Zoe piece of the puzzle. Which left Sydney.

  I was surprised I hadn’t heard from her by now. She had to have heard about Carla, and I figured the first thing she’d do was call me. If she was home, there was no way she hadn’t heard me and Todd arguing in the hallway. And if I knew Syd, she’d have come out straightaway to find out what was going on. But nothing.

  Then I remembered the alley tonight, and her speedy exit. Maybe she was still with that guy, whoever he was. Which I was also curious about.

  I picked up my phone again and texted her.

  Where are you? Did you hear about Carla?

  I waited, but my phone remained silent. Which was weird. It was kind of late, granted, but Syd was a night owl. I wasn’t about to sit around and wait. “I’ll be right back, Monty.” I went across the hall and knocked on Syd’s door, pressing my ear to it. It was quiet inside. I didn’t want to wake Presley, but I needed Syd to help me figure this thing out.

  I knocked again, then threw caution to the wind and rang the bell. A minute later the door was yanked open and Sydney peered out at me, her unruly curls swept up in a messy clip. She looked like she’d been in bed, which at eleven thirty seemed early for her.

  “Sorry to bother you,” I said. “But I can’t believe I haven’t heard from you tonight!”

  She kept the door halfway shut. “What’s up?”

  “What’s up?” I asked, incredulous. “Are you kidding me? You didn’t hear about Carla?”

  Her eyes closed, briefly, her hand going to her throat. “I did. It’s crazy.”

  “Well, it’s even crazier because the cops were here asking me about it because of what happened this morning. I wanted to see if you’ve heard anything. Can I come in?”

  “No,” she said, holding the door when I reached for it.

  I stepped back, surprised and a little hurt. “No?”

  “I mean, Presley’s sick,” she said. “I’ve been dealing with that all night since I got home. And wait. I’m still half-asleep. What do you mean, they were asking you about it?”

  I didn’t really want to have this conversation in the hall, where nosy Mrs. Owens could easily be eavesdropping right now. “Can you just let me in?” I asked, exasperated.

  She glanced behind her, then held up a finger and stepped out of my sight. When she returned, she had her keys in her hand and motioned to my door.

  “Sorry. I didn’t want to wake
her. She finally got to sleep,” Syd said when we were in my apartment with the door cracked so she could listen for Presley. “So what have you heard? They have no idea who killed her?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. They must not, because they think it’s me. Since practically everyone in town saw us fighting today.” I collapsed onto one of my barstools. “They came here. To my door. And made me go to the station to make a statement.” I left the scarf detail out. It made even me feel guilty when I knew full well I didn’t do it.

  Her mouth dropped open. She forced it closed and sat down on the stool next to me. “Why would they do that? Everyone knows you’d never do anything like that.”

  I sniffed. “Obviously not.”

  “That’s ridiculous. And plus, she had enemies. She was a nasty person, Vi. And she was in politics. The combination is pretty deadly. Any number of people could’ve done it. It’s just a matter of who disliked her more than most. Frankly, I’m surprised it’s taken this long.”

  I was a little taken aback by that response. I’d had a few of the same thoughts but immediately felt guilty and chased them away—and I never would’ve said them out loud. I remembered the cease and desist order and wondered if Carla and the town had a leg to stand on.

  “Syd. You can’t mean that,” I said quietly. “She was murdered. No one deserves that.”

  “I didn’t say she did. I’m just saying anyone could’ve done it,” Sydney said. “But you’re right. I shouldn’t have said it. So what’s next? They didn’t arrest you, did they? Did you post bail? This is so ridiculous, Vi. It’s insane.” She sprang up off her stool and paced my kitchen. “We have to do something! A lawyer. That’s it.” She spun around and pointed at me. “We need to get you a lawyer. I’m gonna ask Charlie. He knows everyone. Where’s my phone?”

  “Syd,” I interrupted her tirade. “They didn’t arrest me. They just needed a statement. I don’t want a lawyer. That means I’ll look guilty.”

  “No, it won’t. You have to protect yourself, Vi. Let me call him.”

  “No. God.” I got up myself and went to the cabinet for something to do. Tea, I decided. I’d make tea. “Want some?” I asked, holding up a tea bag.

  “Sure,” she said distractedly, then glanced at the floor. “What the heck happened in here?” she asked, motioning to the trail of glitter throughout my apartment. “Were you scrapbooking or something?”

  I’d forgotten about Fiona’s trademark leave-behind. I made a mental note to sweep it up after Syd left. “Scrapbooking? When have I ever scrapbooked? No, I, uh, was working on a display for the shop and spilled some glitter,” I lied, filling my electric teapot with water and flipping the switch on. “Anyway, I can’t believe you missed all this. Then there was the whole thing with Todd too. Didn’t you hear that? When did you get home? And hey, who was that guy you were with in the alley, by the way?”

  I was alarmed to see that her face had gone from slightly green to stark white. “Jeez,” I said. “What’s wrong with you? Did you catch whatever Presley has?”

  “What? No. I just . . . no. I’m tired. The guy was no one. I bumped into him when I was walking home. He asked me for directions.”

  Directions? What I’d seen was a more intense discussion than directions, but maybe I was remembering it wrong. I had just been released from the slammer, after all, and met my long-lost mother for the first time since I was five. I could’ve been applying the drama from that encounter to Sydney’s. Suddenly I felt exhausted. What if I couldn’t remember anything right?

  “Directions?” I asked. “To where?”

  “What?”

  “Where was he trying to go?” I asked.

  “The new Thai place,” she said, her eyes going up and over my head.

  I knew immediately she wasn’t telling me the truth—that over-the-head gaze was her tell—but it seemed an odd thing to lie about. “So what time did you get home?”

  “God. I don’t remember. Probably nine? I had a crazy afternoon. I did manage to get my fries this afternoon, though. That was definitely important. Good thing I got there when I did too—your skinny friend was buying all the fries.” She was trying to make me laugh now. Or forget about my original question.

  “My who?”

  She waved an impatient hand. “Your vegan yoga friend. I gotta tell you, I don’t think the cheesy fries are vegan.”

  “Natalie?” I felt a surge of impatience. I didn’t care about Natalie’s french fry habit right now.

  “Yep. Anyway, then I had that, uh, painting class thing tonight. I was on my way back from that when I stopped to give that guy directions.”

  She was all over the place. “What painting class?” I asked.

  She nodded, kind of impatiently. “Yeah. At The Muse.” Anna Montgomery’s store. She did fundraising paint parties every week to support a charity. “It was for the local animal rescue.”

  “I didn’t know you were going to that. I would’ve gone with you.” At least I would’ve had an alibi.

  Syd shrugged. “Last minute thing. The woman who runs the shelter came into my store today and asked if I was going. I figured since she was buying a bunch of stuff I had to say yes. Anyway, back to this mess. They can’t seriously suspect you, Vi. And even if they did for a minute, they let you go, so they must be over it, right?”

  I somehow doubted they were over it. If it was anything like the cop shows on TV, they may have let me go, but they’d be working on building their case. Which meant I had to move fast to prove my own innocence. I took a deep breath. “I need to figure out who killed her.”

  Sydney stared at me like I’d sprouted a second head. “You need to,” she repeated. “Why would you need to? Isn’t that what the police are for?”

  The water had started to boil, so I pulled the pot off its base and filled our mugs. I searched in the cabinet for my truffles, because chocolate was kind of necessary in times like this, but couldn’t find them, and my bowl next to my chair was mysteriously empty. Where on earth had I put that bag? Giving up, I slammed the door and turned back to Sydney. “Because if they want to close the case fast and think they have a good suspect, they might not bother looking for the real killer,” I said. “And I could use some help. You in?”

  “Vi.” Sydney shook her head vehemently. “That is not a good idea. We aren’t detectives. You can’t pretend to be a detective!”

  “I’m not going to pretend to be a detective. I’m just going to casually ask around to see if anyone was extra upset with Carla.” I shrugged, putting on the false bravado. “It’s my life on the line.”

  “You know I love you,” Sydney said, grasping my hand. “But I’m telling you, Vi, it’s not a good idea. Let the cops do their jobs. I mean, we both know you didn’t do it, right? Come on, you’re a total do-gooder.”

  I knew she meant that as a compliment, but it still kind of stung. And why wasn’t she tripping over herself to help me, like I would do if the rhinestone-studded cowboy boot was on the other foot?

  It stung, but I didn’t want to show it. “So, what? You think I should just sit back and wait for them to arrest me?”

  “Of course not,” Sydney said. “But they aren’t going to. They’re going to figure out who really did kill her, and then it’s all good. Right?”

  “Syd. Someone was murdered. I don’t care how you feel about her,” I said, cutting off whatever she was about to say when she opened her mouth. “I don’t think it’s going to be all good no matter what happens here. I’d just like to try and keep myself out of jail.”

  “I understand,” she said after a minute. “But Vi, it could be dangerous. I wish you’d stay out of it.”

  I focused on adding honey to the tea so I didn’t have to answer. But my mind was swirling with possible reasons why my best friend not only didn’t want to help me, but didn’t seem to want me doing anything to help myself.

  CHAPTER 23

  I spent most of the night tossing and turning until I fell in
to a restless, unsettled sleep. When I woke, the sun was streaming in through my blinds, which I’d forgotten to shut. I’d overslept, I realized with dismay when I managed to grab my cell phone and focus on it with bleary eyes. “Ugh,” I groaned, dropping it back onto the table. I didn’t want to move, but I didn’t have a choice.

  I rolled over and gasped when I saw two brilliant yellow eyes staring into mine. Monty, I thought, and almost settled in to go back to sleep. Then my eyes flew open. Monty didn’t have yellow eyes. He had brown eyes.

  I refocused. The black cat. The one I’d seen in the neighborhood yesterday. But how on earth had he gotten in here?

  He must live in the building somewhere. And he’d slipped in at some point last night. It was hardly surprising. There had been enough people coming and going in various ways. Although how had I—and Monty—not noticed? “You must be someone’s cat,” I said.

  He (she?) simply stared at me, unblinking.

  I began to feel a little uneasy, then chided myself for acting crazy. He was someone’s lost cat, period. He’d probably slipped back in last night when Sydney and I were in here with my door ajar. I made a mental note to look for posters around the neighborhood or down in the lobby when I left.

  Which would have to be soon. I needed to get to the shop. I still had yesterday’s million things to do, today’s new list of tasks, and appointments. I hoped. Unless my clients had heard I was suspected of murder and canceled on me. Then I realized I’d never heard back from Josie about the smell she insisted had been in the shop yesterday that she was going to have taken care of. I fired off a quick text.

  What happened with the smell? Gas? Dead mouse? Are we all clear?

  While I waited for Josie to reply, I pulled up the Channel Seven news website to see if there was any update about Carla Fernandez or her killer. I scanned the headlines. Pretty much the same as last night. Local councilwoman found dead. Foul play suspected, police are questioning suspects. No arrest has been made. No danger to the public.

  Meaning it wasn’t a random crazy person.