Fae leaned forward and lowered her voice. “We’ve heard a rumor that Joe was about to be fired for stealing money prior to his death. I thought you’d be the one to know if that’s true.” She frowned. “Not that I believe he was capable of something so nasty.”
Stanley shook his head. “That’s a very malicious rumor, and I wouldn’t pay any attention to it. Joe was trustworthy. He’d never do something like that. Even so, he had no access to any cash or bank accounts here.” He raised his eyebrows. “If you know Joe’s history, you’ll know why.”
Fae nodded. “I’ve heard, yes.”
“That’s exactly why we chose not to put him in any position where he might be tempted to do something similar again, despite his obvious skills,” Stanley continued. “Anyone starting a rumor that he took money, or was about to get fired, must have ulterior motives.”
Fae was burning to tell Stanley about the letter they’d found in Claptrap’s office, in which he’d terminated Joe’s services, and ask why he would do so, but remained quiet.
Stanley sat back in his chair. “If you ask me, this was a crime of passion. I saw you this morning having a chat with Petula. My guess is that’s where the police will start their search for suspects.”
Fae thought back on what Petula had said earlier. When anyone said they wanted to “kill someone,” they were talking in metaphor. There was no way they’d physically take someone’s life. But she’d long thought Petula was a nasty piece of work—vain, tempestuous, with a hair-trigger temper. It was quite possible she’d killed Joe in a fit of rage after he’d broken up with her. That was a very plausible explanation. She’d never understood what had attracted Joe to her. He’d probably felt pity and wanted to guide her into making changes to her calamitous life, to no avail. For a while, she’d even suspected Petula of being a dark witch, but finally she’d simply written her off as a befuddled soul.
At least Stanley had cleared Joe of financial wrongdoing. Which begged the question: what was the real reason Claptrap wanted to fire Joe?
When Fae told them about her visit to Stanley, and his take on what had happened to Joe, Dinah and Blaise tore into Petula.
“I’ve long said that girl was a walking disaster.” Blaise paused while grinding herbs where she sat at the Potion Portal’s workbench. “After her outburst this morning, I’m convinced it was her who killed him. She may not have done the deed herself, but it’s easy to find and pay someone to do that kind of dirty work in this day and age.”
“After the wild goose chase we went on thinking it may have been Willie and his mother, we’d better be careful about jumping to conclusions,” Fae cautioned. “We need to figure out a way of finding out whether she’s been up to anything bad.”
“I can look at her through my astral glasses and see if there’s evil in her,” Dinah suggested. “But with her being such a mixed-up and confused young lady, I bet her colors will be a brown mishmash. I probably won’t be able to make heads or tails of her.”
Fae pulled up a stepladder, climbed up and squinted at the potion recipe books lining the upper shelves of one of the bookcases. “Potions for liars…lying… let’s see.” She broke into a smile when she laid eyes on the book she had in mind.
“Ah, here we have it,” she said as she pulled a worn volume from the shelf and handed it down to Dinah. “These are my notes from my time at Dropnyce. Here’s Volume L, so let’s have a look what it says about fibbers and fabricators.”
“Where’s Dropnyce?” Dinah asked. “I’ve never heard of a town like that.”
“It’s not a town, silly, it’s the name of the witch school I went to,” Fae said. “Its full name was the Dropnyce Girls’ Academy for Advanced Magic, but no one in their right mind ever called it that.”
All three gathered around the table and watched as Fae paged through the yellowed sheets filled with barely legible potion recipes.
“Truth cookies might work,” Dinah said and pointed to a recipe underneath a drawing of objects that resembled ginger cookies.
“They would do the job perfectly, but we don’t have a decent stove,” Blaise said, and Fae paged on.
“This one’s intriguing.” Fae pointed her index finger at a short entry that contained half a dozen ingredients, and a drawing of a small bottle with the letters P and J on it. She started reading from the instructions and brightened up. “This was our own potion invention we made outside school hours. We called it Pinocchio Juice.”
Dinah giggled. “Trust your fertile imagination to come up with that name, Fae. Don’t tell me, let me guess. Is this a potion that makes your nose grow if you lie, like in the original story about the little wooden guy?”
“Exactly,” Fae said with a fiendish grin. “We came up with a version that made the liar grow horns, but the wizard master, who was quite a conservative guy, didn’t like it. He said it was a little too obvious.” She ran her finger down the list of ingredients. “I think this is exactly what we need to get Petula to tell all. And, it looks like we’re in luck. We have all the ingredients on hand.”
Blaise rubbed her hands together. “Great, I’ll get the ingredients together. Dinah, you set up the mixing bowls and learn the spell to activate it with.”
“I knew my school notes would come in handy someday,” Fae said, sounding satisfied.
“How are we going to lure Petula back here to give her the Pinocchio potion?” Blaise asked as the three took their seats for dinner at their usual table.
“I think Mohammed might have to go to the proverbial mountain,” Fae said. “We’ll have to go look for Petula at one of her hangouts in town and have a little talk with her there. She’s not going to set foot in here anytime soon, after embarrassing herself during the memorial service tea.”
“Joe mentioned he met up with her at the Black Steer Bar once a week,” Dinah said. She gave Fae a worried look. “I hope alcohol doesn’t react badly with the potion, Fae?”
“It won’t affect the outcome, no,” Fae said. “Now, have you tested the potion, as we agreed?”
Dinah giggled. “Yes, I did. I put a few drops in old George McIntyre’s tea.”
Blaise looked confused. “George who? Who’s he?”
“C’mon, Blaise, you know Tall George. That guy with the Hawaiian shirt who’s always sneaking cookies from the kitchen,” Dinah said.
Blaise leaned forward. “So, what happened? Did you catch him out?”
With much glee, Dinah recounted how she’d questioned him on whether he’d ever been inside the old age home’s kitchen. When he’d flatly denied ever setting foot in it, George’s already substantial nose had grown longer by a whole inch, and in addition had sprouted a few hairs.
“I wish I’d seen the look on his face,” Fae said, wiping away tears of mirth. “Speaking of which, are we still in the middle of a pudding recession?” She looked around the dining room and, after spotting Myrna, waved her over.
“Myrna, dear, have you forgotten it’s Thursday? That means it’s pudding night.” Fae pointed hopefully at the empty space on the table in front of her.
Myrna shook her head. “Sorry, Mrs. Whitewood. Still no pudding at dinner, I’m afraid.” She shrugged. “The budget cuts, you know.”
“What budget cuts?” Fae snapped. She waved across the table. “We all pay our monthly dues. There shouldn’t be a need to ration the pudding. I think we’ll have a word with Claptrap about this.” She banged her fist on the table. “It’s been going on for long enough now.”
“Be careful, though. Mr. Drake’s been acting very strangely these past few days,” Myra said. “Did you see the show Brenda put on at the funeral?” She looked around to make sure no one would hear her. “The girls in admin are all talking about how it was Brenda who got Joe hired six months ago.” She winked. “Maybe they had a thing going on.”
“Looks like we’re going to have to give a whole lot of people here a bottle of Pinocchio Juice to drink,” Fae said, crumpling up her napkin and dumping it on the t
able. “The only reason for budget cuts is if money has been stolen from Shady Pastures. And any one of a whole bunch of people might be guilty of that. And if money’s still disappearing, it definitely wasn’t Joe who was doing the stealing.”
“Don’t worry, Fae, we’re going to get to the bottom of Joe’s death one step at a time,” Dinah said, producing a small, purple bottle she put in the center of the table. “Now that it’s been proven to be effective, I think it’s time we put this little bottle of witches’ brew to work.”
“Here you are, ladies,” the taxi driver said as he pulled his yellow cab over in front of the entrance to the Black Steer Bar. He looked over his shoulder at the three white-haired women in the backseat. “I have no idea why you’d want to come to a seedy place like this when there are dozens of places in town where you can get a decent drink. You three take care now, okay?”
“Don’t worry, Billy. You be back in an hour, as arranged. We’re only here to meet someone for a little tête-à-tête,” Fae assured him.
“I hope she’s still here,” Dinah said and shivered as she looked at the dilapidated entrance to the bar. “This place give me the creeps.”
“When I phoned, the bartender said she’s here every day from noon to closing time,” Fae said, folding up the piece of paper she’d been clutching with the bar’s address on it. “Now, y’all keep your fingers crossed that when we leave here, we know without a doubt who killed Joe.” She tapped on the side of her handbag. “I’ve got that little Dictaphone gadget I borrowed from the IT guy right here, to catch her confession on tape.”
Fae paused at the doorway to get used to the semi-darkness inside the bar. At the far end of the room, a cowboy was slow-dancing in front of a jukebox that played a sad, twangy cover of a Johnny Cash song. Apart from the dancing couple, the bar looked empty, and her heart sank.
“I know who you are,” the bartender said as Fae approached him and introduced herself. “We don’t have too many old ladies calling to enquire about our patrons.” He jerked his head in the direction of a cubicle half-hidden behind a garish Chinese screen. “She’s back there, as usual. Has been for about an hour, so I don’t think she’s passed out yet. She can’t get over the death of her ex-boyfriend. At this rate, she’s going to be joining him soon.”
Fae breathed out, relieved.
“Thanks, bartender, and won’t you pour us four whiskeys we can take over with us?” Fae said and paid for the drinks. “Dinah, will you carry Petula’s drink, please?”
Petula was seated alone inside the cubicle, looking much the worse for wear. There were several empty glasses in front her, and her mascara was tear-streaked. She slowly lifted her head when Fae put the whiskey in front of her.
“Now what brings you ladies here? Have you come over to help me celebrate the funeral of that two-timing jerk, my ex-boyfriend?” Petula eyed the three witches as they sat down without waiting for an invitation.
Fae glanced at the other two as they put their drinks on the table. “Hi, Petula. Yes, we wanted to come around and reminisce with you about Joe.” She lifted her glass. “Cheers to Joe.”
Petula picked up her glass and drank it down in one go. “Why, that’s very kind of you guys, buying me a round.” She made a sour face and looked at the empty glass. “This is definitely not Jack Daniels. I can’t say you people have the best taste in whiskey. But thanks anyway.”
“When did you hear Joe was murdered? It must’ve come as quite a shock to you.” All three witches watched Petula carefully for her response to Fae’s question.
Petula rubbed her face. Years of drinking had hardened her features, but her nose was still pixie-like, slightly pointed and well-formed. Fae couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. She had definitely been a pretty girl once, before she’d fallen off the wagon. Joe had poured out his heart to Fae more than once, bemoaning the fact that, despite his best efforts to help her, Petula simply couldn’t stay clean. When she was sober, she was as kind and sweet as an angel, he said. But when she’d been drinking, she was the worst person in the world.
“He broke up with me a few weeks ago. That was already a shock, because I thought we were happy together. Then, the day before he died, I went to his place to try and make up. That’s when I found out about this old flame. He went on about how he suddenly realized he was still in love with her. I went ballistic. I probably overreacted, but look, I’m not the kind of person who holds back when I’m hurt. I kicked and screamed and went totally crazy. Next thing I knew, I was on top of him, hitting him. Then I ran. That was the last time I saw him.”
Petula had been talking in a low drawl with her eyes closed. Suddenly her eyes fluttered open, and her voice was clear and coherent. “Wow. Why I am I feeling so awake all of a sudden?” She sniffed the air. “Did they put some sort of air freshener in the air conditioning?”
Fae took a deep breath. She was taking the bull by the horns.
“Petula, did you strangle Joe until he was dead during your fight? I know you didn’t mean it if you did, but—”
Petula gasped and sat upright, her eyes wide open. “No, no. I mean, I despise the way he treated me, but I would never, ever kill someone. He was fine when I left him in his room, still apologizing for what he’d done to me.” She wrinkled her nose and rubbed it, like someone having a hay fever attack. She sneezed loudly and blew her nose. Fae leaned forward to take a better look. Petula’s nose hadn’t changed at all.
Petula glowered at Fae. “Lady, what are you getting at? I may be a hopeless drunk, but I’m not a murderer. I still have my self-respect, okay?” She shook her head and pursed her lips. “I think it’s better if you people leave, right now. You didn’t come here to sympathize. You’re here to stir me up.”
Fae collected her bag. “I’m sorry if we upset you. We’ll be on our way, yes. One last question, though, if you don’t mind. You said he left you for an old—”
“Out! Now!”
Petula leapt up and spewed the words at the top of her lungs, her high-pitched voice reverberating through the empty bar. Her eyes were dark with anger, and her hand quivered with rage as she pointed to the bar’s door. Mumbling apologies, the witches filed out the bar.
“Well, that was a waste of a fine potion,” Fae said as they waited outside for Billy’s taxi to arrive. “But at least we can cross Petula off our list of suspects.”
A police cruiser, its blue light slowly turning on the roof, turned the corner and came to a slow halt at the curb where the witches were standing.
“I hope this isn’t trouble,” Blaise said worriedly. “Do you think Petula would’ve called the cops?”
Fae beamed when she recognized who was behind the wheel of the cruiser. “Well, this is service for you. It’s Officer Holden Folsom, Julie’s boyfriend. Looks like he’s stopping to give us a ride back to Shady Pastures.”
Holden got out the driver’s seat as soon as he stopped, holding a police file in one hand. His face was grim and unsmiling as he rounded the car.
Fae started towards the cruiser. “This is so kind of you, Holden. We could use a lift back home. Our taxi seemed to have forgotten about us. Thanks for stopping.” Then she stopped abruptly, realizing Holden wasn’t about to open the door for them.
“Morning, ladies. You wouldn’t perhaps know whether a certain Petula Bagleton is inside this establishment?” He pointed at the Black Steer Bar’s flickering neon sign above the door.
Fae hesitated. “Might be. Why are you looking for her, Holden? Has she done anything wrong?”
Holden held up his file. “We’ve had a breakthrough in the Joe Humberton murder case. We found evidence that makes her suspect number one. Looks like it was a love story gone wrong. I’m here to arrest her on suspicion of murder.”
It was on the tip of Fae’s tongue to say, “No need to do that, Holden. We’ve already established she’s innocent because her nose didn’t grow after we fed her a few drops of Pinocchio Juice.” She swallowed back her words when Blaise pinched h
er elbow.
Dinah was the first to overcome her astonishment.
“Evidence? What sort of evidence?”
“I’m not at liberty to say, but I know you’ll probably hear it from Julie anyway, so what the heck.” Holden looked around to make sure no one was within hearing distance. “While searching Joe’s room, we found a very nasty letter Petula had written to him after he’d split up with her. In it she made all kinds of terrible threats. One line included the words”—Holden made air quotes with his fingers—“‘you’ll die for this.’ Witnesses also saw her slipping out of his room the day before he died, and several told us about threatening remarks she’d made after his memorial service. We believe DNA tests will confirm she had a physical altercation with Joe, during which he died.”
All three witches started talking at the same time, but Holden waved them down.
“Sorry, ladies, I’d love to give you a ride home, but duty calls.” He pointed further down the street. “Here’s your taxi, anyway.”
Chapter Six
Mr. Drake ascended the stage in the Shady Pastures dining room and cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention.
He held up a copy of the Fennelmoore Times. “You may have seen the good news in the papers this morning. The police have arrested a suspect for the murder of Joe Humberton, and it looks like they may have solved the case. We can all breathe a little easier now.” A hum of approval went up from those assembled.
In contrast, the three witches seated at their table nursing cups of tea remained glum. With good reason, they were skeptical about the announcement.
“Either our Pinocchio Juice failed badly, or the cops are on a wild goose chase,” Fae said, summing up their thoughts.
“We’re not wrong,” Dinah said. “I had a quick glance at Petula through my astral glasses while we were talking to her yesterday. She’s as pink as a newborn baby inside. She may have a fire and brimstone persona, but I was surprised at how pure she was inside. There are a few dead spots because of all the drinking, but she has a powerful spirit.”
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