A Witch to Remember

by Heather Blake

  Her face fell. “Damn.” Then, after a moment, she wrinkled her nose and softly said, “Might still be worth it …”

  On that note, I said my goodbye. I wanted to find Stef before Feif did so he didn’t have the chance to influence her statement about the events on Saturday. I could just see him trying to charm her into going along with his alibi.

  I headed back outside, and in my rush, I nearly smacked straight into Carolyn Honeycutt, who had her phone in one hand and a takeout cup from the Gingerbread Shack in the other.

  She spun herself around, slipped her phone into her pocket, and started fast-walking away from me.

  At Carolyn’s guilty reaction, I instantly decided that Stef could wait. With a kick to my step, I caught up to Carolyn quickly. “Lovely day for a walk, isn’t it?”

  “Beautiful,” she said as she kept up her fast pace.

  I matched her steps. “I could walk all day. I don’t have anything else planned,” I said, lying through my teeth.

  I really had to cut back on the lies. They were starting to come much too naturally.

  “Fancy running into you,” Carolyn said on a heavy sigh, slowing to a stop in front of the village playhouse when she realized she wasn’t going to be able to lose me easily. “Feif mentioned that he ran into you this morning.”

  “Mentioned to you,” I said, “or warned you?”

  The corner of her lip curled upward before she took a sip of the coffee. Dark liquid dribbled down the side of the cup as she said, “Warned.”

  “Why didn’t you mention your relationship with Feif yesterday?” I asked.

  Carolyn pulled her braid forward and started picking at its end. “Well, for one, I was embarrassed to tell you. But mostly it was because I wanted you to take a serious look at Feif. I think he’s guilty. He’s a snake—”

  “And a weasel,” I cut in. “And you hate him.”

  “Yes,” Carolyn said emphatically. “This is what I’m saying.”

  I said, “But yet you slept with him? Are you two dating?”

  Carolyn’s face morphed into one of disgust. “Dating? No. Gross. He’s not even good in bed.”

  I knew quite a few people who were going to be disappointed to hear that.

  “And it was only the one time,” she said. “I took one for the team, as they say.”

  “Please explain this all to me,” I said to Carolyn. “As concisely as possible, because it’s already been a long day even though it’s barely past nine, and I haven’t had nearly enough coffee.”

  “It’s like this,” she began. “I tried to tell Leyna a million times how awful Feif was, but she just wouldn’t—or couldn’t—hear it. And here she was again, falling for his same old tricks. When I saw her sneak out of his room on Friday morning, I knew I had to do something drastic. I couldn’t let her be hurt by him again. I had to show her how bad he was. So … I slept with him. And”—her cheeks turned red—“I kind of video-recorded it.”

  Oh. My. “Did you show the video to Leyna?” I asked as I tried to pick my jaw off the ground.

  “No. It didn’t come to that because before I did, Feif showed her the tour contract, and she flipped out on him.”

  Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice … Leyna hadn’t been as blinded by love the second time around. Her previous heartache had given her some clarity, and I’d have bet a frozen peppermint patty that she’d read his energy when he presented the contract. I couldn’t help wondering if that energy had also revealed Feif had slept with her friend hours after he’d slept with her.

  It was possible. Had she also read Carolyn’s energy when she’d shown up at Divinitea the next day? I knew Carolyn had been in the cottage, thanks to Ve’s eyewitness account, but when had she left the premises?

  “If we’re done here, I need to go,” she said. “Things to do. People to see.”

  “Actually, there is something else you can clarify. Were you in Divinitea around the time the fire broke out?”

  Surprise filled her eyes—I’d clearly caught her off guard.

  She said, “I was scheduled for a reading, but Leyna never showed up …”

  “If you were so close to her, why would you have to schedule a reading?”

  “Leyna only reads people under certain circumstances. Never outside the realm of a business deal. Well, except for that one time last Thursday, and I know she immediately regretted it, even though she was so overwhelmed with the lady’s dark energy she couldn’t help herself from speaking up.”

  Dark energy. “Wait, what?” I asked. “When was this again?”

  “Thursday afternoon,” Carolyn repeated. “Leyna and I crossed paths with a woman near the Sorcerer’s Stove, and the woman spit in Leyna’s direction. I would have decked her myself, but Leyna has more restraint. Had.” She shook her head. “Anyway, Leyna pulled the woman aside and gave her a reading right then and there.”

  “Do you know who the woman was?” I asked, already thinking I knew precisely whom she was talking about.

  “No. It was an older blonde lady in a skintight dress. Big boobs, big hair, lots of Botox, but she didn’t look too healthy.”

  Dorothy. It had to be.

  I said, “Did you hear what Leyna told the woman?”

  “I couldn’t hear the whole conversation, but I did pick up the words sick and doctor. I mean, which makes sense, because the woman didn’t look well at all. When we left, Leyna said she should have just walked on by altogether, but the woman’s dark energy wouldn’t let her stay silent since dark energy usually means severe illness or impending death.”

  I recalled what Ula, the bartender from the Sorcerer’s Stove, had said about Dorothy’s behavior on Thursday afternoon. How Dorothy had said that if Leyna was joking, she’d kill her with her bare hands.

  Had Dorothy said that because Leyna had told her she was ill?

  Or was there more to it?

  There was no way to know, so I pressed on, trying to get more answers from Carolyn. “Why were you seeking a reading from Leyna on Saturday?” I asked her. “What spurred the reading on that day, at that time?”

  She quickly said, “I wanted Leyna’s advice on whether I should quit the festival. The job wasn’t the same without her, and though I like the work, I wasn’t sure it was for me anymore. I thought if she could read my tea leaves, she’d be able to give me some direction. But she never got the chance.”

  I’d been thinking that was a discussion to be had with a friend, rather than a psychic, right up until she mentioned the tea leaves. The tea leaves gave her story credibility.

  “And did you decide?” I asked. “About the job?”

  “I’m tendering my resignation today, effective after this week’s festival wraps up. I won’t be moving on to the next town with the rest of the troupe.”

  How much of her decision had been made because she’d slept with Feif? I’d guessed it had played a big role, especially if she was being honest about disliking the man.

  If.

  Carolyn threw a look toward the village green and all the tents. “Speaking of work, I need to go. Do you have any more questions?”

  I couldn’t think of any right now. I shook my head.

  Carolyn said, “Good,” and then walked away, her braid swaying.

  As I watched her go, I wondered what to believe, because if I’d learned one thing about Carolyn, it was that she never told the full truth.

  I believed the videotape part, but wondered if Feif had known he was being recorded (but perhaps not why) and had agreed to it.

  The part about Dorothy … It jibed with what Ula had told me the other day, but I didn’t know how to corroborate the theory. After all, there was no one but Carolyn to even confirm that the conversation had taken place. Dorothy hadn’t said anything specifically about being ill to Ula, either.

  If she’s joking …

  The thing about Dorothy, however, was that she liked being the center of attention. If she had been pulled aside by Leyna and told she
was ill, she wouldn’t keep it to herself. Couldn’t. My instincts told me she’d revealed that conversation to someone.

  Since Dorothy had no friends, no job, was semi-estranged from Glinda, and had a husband who thought she was the devil, that left only one confidant I could think of.

  Vince.

  Ula had said Dorothy had been sloppy drunk on Thursday. Undoubtedly, Vince had been called to collect his mother. I needed to have another talk with him.

  But first, I needed to find Stef. If she could validate Feif’s alibi, it’d make my job a little easier. I could have kicked myself for the fact that he even knew about Stef in the first place. If Starla and I hadn’t run into him this morning and let Stef’s identity slip …

  I glanced back at the Stove, recalling what Joelle had said about Feif showing up, looking for Stef. My original thought had been that he wanted to charm her, to make sure her version of events matched his.

  But what if it didn’t?

  What if Stef hadn’t seen him on Saturday? And refused to play along with his plan to give him an alibi? If he’d killed Leyna and thought Stef was the only thing in the way of his getting off scot-free …

  What would stop him from trying to silence Stef as well?

  Nothing.

  Instant panic washed over me, and I broke into a run, telling myself she was fine. Just fine. But the sooner I got to her house and saw that she was okay with my own eyes, the better.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Stef’s garage door was open as I jogged up her driveway. Her car’s engine ticked in the bay, the trunk lifted.

  When I saw her step out of the doorway leading from the house into the garage, I let out a breath of relief.

  When she saw me, she let out a scream.

  “Oh my god!” She grabbed her chest. Then she laughed. “You scared me. Is everything okay?”

  “Sorry! I was about to knock. Can I talk to you a minute?”

  It looked like Stef had been to the gym at some point this morning. She had on workout leggings, a moisture-wicking T-shirt, and sneakers. Her hair was pulled back in a cloth headband. She tipped her head. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. Through As You Wish, I’m looking into Leyna Noble’s death for the Goodwin family,” I said, just going with the flow of the lies at this point, even though that one had a factual foundation. “They want no stone unturned. You were at the tea shop on Saturday, right?”

  She nodded and said, “Let me just grab the rest of these groceries, and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  I went to help, picking up two reusable bags printed with book quotes from the trunk.

  “Excuse the mess,” Stef said, nodding into the trunk space. “I tend to throw things in there and then never take them out again. It’s like a portable junk drawer.”

  Stef wasn’t kidding about the mess. There was a jumble of plastic grocery bags I assumed were meant for recycling, a couple of crumpled blankets, a pillow, a picnic basket, a laundry basket with clothes in it, a few books, and a spatula. “A spatula?”

  She laughed. “I should probably take that inside, but I can’t bring myself to do it.”

  “Why?”

  “Most of the stuff in here brings back memories of my husband. The spatula is from the last time we went camping together. The blankets and pillow are from when I spent nights at the hospital with him. The clothes, too. I should clean it all out. My therapist would tell me it’s past due, but I just can’t bring myself to do it yet.” She closed the trunk and led me into the house. “I even tried dating again, but it was too soon.”

  I said, “With Vince, right?”

  She nodded. “He’s a nice guy, but I wasn’t ready, even for a no-strings relationship.”

  “How long has your husband been gone?” I asked.

  “A little less than a year and a half,” she said. “The doctors tried just about everything. God, I’d have done anything to save him.”

  Understandable. I couldn’t imagine if Nick faced a similar diagnosis. It made my stomach roll just thinking about it. “I don’t think there’s a set time on grief. Eighteen months isn’t very long at all.”

  Stef set her bags on the counter, next to a to-go cup from the Witch’s Brew. There was moisture in her eyes as she said, “Sometimes it feels like a lifetime.”

  I fought the urge to give her a hug and instead focused on all the pictures she had stuck to the fridge. “How long were you together? You look like little kids in some of these photos. Is that one from a prom?”

  It was one of those matte-finished shots under an arch of blue and maroon balloons. She’d been wearing a long, poofy pink gown, and he’d been in a tux with a pink tie and cummerbund. She stared up at him with adoration in her eyes as he grinned at the camera. Her profile, with her hair pulled back in an updo, reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t quite place who.

  “We were high school sweethearts and married right after college. It would have been twenty years this year. It’s a long time to love someone, and I’m grateful for that. But I just wish there had been more time together.”

  My skin tingled at the wish, but I couldn’t grant wishes for time.

  “And no, no kids,” Stef added, turning away from the pictures.

  “Okay,” I said, since it seemed so important to her.

  “Sorry. Since people tend to ask, it’s become second nature to just tell.”

  I smiled. “I’m sure that gets annoying.”

  “Beyond.” She took off the top of the cup, poured its dregs in the sink, rinsed the tea leaves stuck to the basin, and then went about unpacking the bags. “Now that I’ve given you my whole life story, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “Feif Highbridge,” I said.

  “The psychic? He’s a gorgeous man, isn’t he? He might be able to convince me to give dating another try.”

  “No!”

  She laughed. “I was just joking. Psychics give me the willies—I don’t want anyone reading my mind. That’s just creepy. But by your reaction, I’m guessing I should steer clear of him altogether.”

  I nodded. “Definitely, but that might be easier said than done. He’s been looking for you this morning. He hasn’t been by, has he?”

  “No. I haven’t seen him—I’ve been out since sevenish. I swear one of these days I’m going to find a nice, late-afternoon exercise class. I stopped at the Witch’s Brew after the gym, then went grocery shopping. I didn’t see him at any of those places, either. Why would he be looking for me?” She set a container of strawberries on the counter. “I don’t understand.”

  “Long story short,” I said, “Feif is a possible suspect in Leyna’s murder.”

  “I thought Dorothy is in custody?”

  “She is in custody,” I said, “but she hasn’t been arrested. She’s on an emergency psych hold.”

  Stef nodded and carried the strawberries and a six-pack of yogurt to the fridge. “I heard that this morning at the Witch’s Brew. I wasn’t sure what that meant for the case, though. But now you think Feif might have killed Leyna? Did they even know each other?”

  “They had a business relationship that ended badly, and he was inside Divinitea when the fire broke out. His alibi is that he was hiding in an alcove in the hallway when the alarms sounded and the sprinklers went off. He said you could verify his alibi.”

  Her face clouded with confusion. “Me? He really said that?”

  I folded the reusable bag she’d emptied. “He told us he saw you on your way back from the restroom and you smiled at him. Did you? See him, I mean?”

  Stef tossed the empty to-go cup in the recycling bin and shook her head. “No. I didn’t see anyone but Ve on that trip to the restroom. We talked about your wedding for a minute, but that’s it. Why would Feif lie?”

  “Grasping at straws. I’m guessing he was planning to use his charms to get you to corroborate his alibi. He’s really persuasive, apparently.”

  “I’m not o
ne to be swayed by charm.”

  “Well, keep that in mind if he does show up. And call Nick or me, too, if he does.”

  “But, Darcy, if Feif is guilty, what does that mean for Dorothy and her psych hold? Is she going to be let out of the hospital?”

  “She still has to complete the seventy-two-hour hold,” I said, “but after that she’ll be free to go.”

  “I hope while she’s in there she gets the help she needs. She’s been acting … bizarrely lately. More than just the drinking, I mean.”

  “What have you noticed?” I asked.

  She unpacked another bag as she said, “Strange things like talking to herself, pulling out her hair, swatting at things that are only visible to her. Beyond the mental issues, I saw a lot of the same signs in her I saw in my husband when he was ill. Losing weight, sweating, thinning hair. I asked her once if she’d been to see a doctor lately, and she nearly bit my head off. She doesn’t like me.”

  “She doesn’t like anyone,” I said. “So don’t take it personally.”

  “I don’t,” she said. “Everyone at the Stove warned me about her personality. Honestly, I don’t know what’s going on with Dorothy, but I will say that even some of her mental symptoms troubled me. When my husband’s cancer spread to his brain, he wasn’t himself anymore.”

  I stiffened, suddenly worried. I knew of another case with similar symptoms that had drastically changed a man’s personality. I hadn’t connected the two before, because Dorothy was a naturally cruel person. But if she had a medical issue, the recent, overly aggressive changes in her behavior made a lot more sense.

  Stef added, “I hate to say it, but when this is all said and done, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to find out that Dorothy is gravely ill.”

  * * *

  As I opened the door to the Bewitching Boutique, I wanted nothing more than to clear my mind of everything that had to do with murder and evilness to focus on my wedding. To feel only the joy this fitting should bring me.

  But I couldn’t separate the subjects, because this appointment wasn’t just for a dress fitting.

  It was also to hear a report on a covert operation.