“Money?” I said, not really following.
“He’s loaded, remember?”
I did now that she mentioned it. He came from old money. The kind that built additions onto museums and hospitals.
“He and Vivienne have an ironclad prenup,” Glinda explained. “If they divorce, she gets a pittance. Unless . . .” She tipped her head, allowing me to fill in the blank.
“He’s caught cheating.”
“Right. They have an infidelity clause. If he’s cheating, she gets a windfall. Ten million.”
“Say what?” I squeaked out. “Ten million?”
“Yep,” Glinda said. “And if I can deliver irrefutable proof of his cheating, she’s going to give me five percent of that as a bonus.”
Five percent. Five hundred thousand dollars.
Oh. My. Gosh.
“Which is why you couldn’t have come in here at a worse time. I’d have had video evidence of Baz and Natasha canoodling if you hadn’t stuck your nosy head in here when you did.” She held up her smartphone, which was playing the video. It showed Baz sneaking into the hall closet, then Natasha joining him a moment later.
“Did you just say the word ‘canoodling’?” I couldn’t help teasing.
“You’re a bad influence, Darcy Merriweather. And no offense, but I’m just going to delete the part of this recording where you snuck in here. I see enough of you in person, thank you very much, so I don’t need to hold on to this as a keepsake.”
“Actually, I might be able to help your case.” It was the least I could do to help Vivienne.
“How so?” Glinda asked.
I held up my pen. “It has a hidden video camera. I had it running the whole time Natasha and Baz were in the hallway.”
Her eyes widened. “I could kiss you, and that’s saying something.”
“Please don’t.” I suddenly frowned as something caught my eye.
“You don’t have to make that face. I can assure you I wouldn’t enjoy the kiss, either.”
The video she’d taken had been playing on a loop while she was speaking, and I reached out and snatched the phone out of her hand.
“Hey!” she exclaimed.
My hand shook as I said, “How did you do this?”
“Do what?” she asked, sounding as if she were dealing with a crazy person.
Maybe she was, because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Maybe I was losing my mind.
I held up the phone. “This! How am I on this video? Do you see me?”
“Have you gone batty, Darcy? Of course I see you. I was recording when you came in—” She abruptly stopped talking and her eyes widened as realization hit. “I—I don’t know.”
So I hadn’t been seeing things.
My image was on this video.
Me. With my long dark hair and golden blue eyes.
It was startling to say the least.
Because I, as a Wishcrafter, should have been nothing but a bright white light on this video.
I reached for the doorknob. Forget Natasha. I had a bigger problem.
I had to find Ve.
* * *
Glinda was hot on my heels as I rushed down the grand staircases toward the showroom. We weren’t the only ones in a hurry. Starla was taking the steps upward two at a time, headed toward me, her camera in hand.
I thought for certain she was going to say something about capturing a Wishcrafter image, but instead she said, “Darcy! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Evan’s been stalling the judges. They can’t judge Missy without you there.” She grabbed my hand, and her blond ponytail swished side to side as she pulled me along. “You’re about to be disqualified.”
At the bottom of the marble staircase, I glanced around the event hall and said, “Do you know if Ve is back from lunch? Have you seen her? I’ve been calling her cell phone, but she’s not answering.”
There must have been something in my tone that had alerted her to trouble in the air, because she stopped dead in her tracks. “She’s not back yet. Why? What’s wrong?” She flicked a glance at Glinda and frowned.
Glinda held up her hands in surrender. “It has nothing to do with me. This time,” she added under her breath. She skirted around us and headed straight for Vivienne Lucas.
I turned my attention back to my friend. “Have you taken any pictures of Ve or Evan?”
Confusion flickered in Starla’s blue eyes. “Not specifically because, well, you know, but I’m sure there are a few shots with them in the background. I haven’t reviewed the photos yet, but I’ll just delete those ones. Why?”
“It’s the strangest thing. Take a look at the photos. I bet you’ll be surprised by what you see. Glinda had this video—”
“Darcy!” Evan yelled, cutting me off as he stomped toward me. “The judges finished with Natasha five minutes ago and are waiting for you. Come on!” He grabbed my hand and tugged.
Like brother, like sister.
To Starla, I said, “Please go find Ve for me.”
With a nod, she spun around and hurried off.
I stumbled along until Evan suddenly let go of my hand, stepped behind me, and pushed me forward, his hands firmly on my shoulders as though he was suspecting I’d flee at first chance.
Truth was, the thought had crossed my mind.
Right now the Pawsitively Enchanted competition was the last thing on my mind. Something big was going on in the witch world, and I needed to make sure Ve knew about it.
“Here she is,” Evan said brightly as he presented me to the judges. “I told you she’d be right back.” He bent and picked up Twink, gave my arm a squeeze, and blended into the crowd.
As my gaze flicked over the judges’ faces, I pasted a fake smile on my face. “Hello!”
“Nice of you to join us, Darcy Merriweather,” Dorothy Hansel Dewitt said, her tone dripping with condescension.
Dorothy, Glinda’s mother, and I had a long history of disliking each other. She was short, busty, and crazy as a loony tune.
“Sorry,” I said. “I, uh, the restroom had a line . . .” Not entirely a lie.
Next to Dorothy, Ivy Teasdale was giving me an icy glare. No wonder, as I’d obviously not been keeping an eye on Natasha as I’d been hired to do. She was clearly unhappy with me.
I peeked across the aisle to find Natasha grinning at me like the Cheshire Cat over the rim of a cardboard coffee cup. She was obviously enjoying the fact that the judges were clearly displeased with me.
Titania had fallen asleep on her velvet cushion, and the half-naked men were nowhere to be seen—probably on their lunch break.
I noticed that the coffee cup in Natasha’s hand looked as though it had come from Baz and Vivienne’s display—it was that telltale Tiffany blue.
Had she no shame at all?
Had he?
Now that I knew they were carrying on, I couldn’t help replaying Natasha and Baz’s every interaction today and wondered how I’d misread the obvious signs. The gooey-eyed glances. The giggly conversations. Sure, I’d witnessed them, but I had chalked them up to Baz’s flirtatious personality. It made me a bit queasy as I looked his way. His attention, however, wasn’t focused on Natasha right now—it had been captured by the whispered conversation going on between Vivienne and Glinda.
Vivienne’s eyes had narrowed, her lips had pursed, and her face had flushed as she glared at her husband.
With her hands fisted at her sides, it was obvious she was infuriated. No doubt, Glinda had just informed her of Baz’s exploits.
With a big grin, family friend Godfrey Baleaux stroked his white beard and said, “You’re here now, Darcy, and that’s all that matters. Let the judging begin!” His big belly jiggled, straining the buttons on his vest as he chuckled.
The event photographer busily snapped pictures of Missy i
n her pen as Reggie Beeson bent down and made a noise that sounded like a combination kiss and cluck. Missy trotted over to her, her tail wagging, probably expecting another dog cookie.
Missy’s tail stopped wagging when she realized no snack was forthcoming.
I understood her disappointment. I could use a cookie right about now, too.
I set the spy pen on my display table and tried to focus on the judging. I scooped up Missy and held her close to my chest. Her heart beat rapidly beneath my hand, and I stroked her back to calm her down a bit. The judges stepped over, one at a time, for a closer look at Missy’s eyes.
Her tiny tail wagged as Godfrey said, “Soulful eyes.”
It thumped harder as Reggie leaned in and said, “Lovely. Just lovely.”
Ivy shoved a pink streak strand of hair out of her eye and spent more time looking at me than Missy. She mouthed, You’re fired, then quickly stepped backward.
My jaw dropped, but I couldn’t quite defend myself to Ivy at this moment.
And after a moment of consideration, I asked myself why I would want to. I shouldn’t have taken the job to begin with. I’d known it when Ivy hired me, and I knew it now.
I had to learn to say no.
Being fired was a relief.
After the judges departed, I’d pack up, find Aunt Ve, have lunch with Nick and Mimi, and then Missy and I would go home. She’d be thrilled.
As the event photographer snapped photos, I eyed his fancy camera and wondered what would show up on his display screen. Was he capturing a white starburst? Or was my true image showing up?
I couldn’t quite ask without raising suspicions.
Dorothy moved in for her time with Missy, and the little dog bared her teeth and tried to nip her.
Missy had exceptional instincts.
“Aggressive temperament,” Dorothy said, tsking as she marked something on her clipboard.
It required all I had in me not to snap that it took one to know one.
Dorothy brought out the worst in me.
I smiled tightly and tried my best to ignore her.
“Come, now, Dorothy,” Godfrey said, sliding an arm around her shoulders. “I believe a short break is in order. I know I’m in need of a cocktail.”
“A great idea, Godfrey,” she agreed. “One of your few.”
“Don’t make me close your tab at the shop, honey.”
Her eyes flared with panic. “My apologies.” Patting her pale blond bob, she gave me a finger wave and allowed Godfrey to lead her toward the staircase. Her stilettos clacked with each step she took.
I caught sight of Nick, Mimi, and Higgins headed this way to meet up for our lunch date, and I couldn’t help sighing a little. Just looking at them did my heart good.
Nick threw me a smile as they stopped to let a couple with three young boys admire Higgins.
Perhaps Nick and Mimi could help track down Ve before we had lunch together. . . .
With her blue eyes shining, Reggie stepped up to me and said, “Don’t mind Dorothy, my dear. We all know Missy has a sweet temperament. Dorothy’s just . . .” She seemed to be searching for a word and finally said, “Dorothy’s just Dorothy.” She slipped her hand in her pocket. A second later, a treat appeared between her fingertips. Missy happily gobbled it up, and with a pat to Missy’s head, Reggie was gone, hurrying along to catch up to the rest of the group.
Letting out a long sigh, I set Missy back into her pen. It was a good thing this performance had been only a ruse for the other contestants or Missy would undoubtedly have the lowest scores here, thanks to Dorothy’s and Ivy’s contempt for me.
I glanced again at Natasha, expecting to find her delighted with the scene she’d just witnessed. Instead her Cheshire Cat smile had vanished. A deep flush reddened the skin on her face and she had one hand pressed to her chest. The other hand was trying to set the coffee cup on the table. It slipped out of her hand and hit the floor, sending liquid streaming under her display table.
Her frightened gaze rose to meet mine, and she opened her mouth, but no words came out.
“Are you okay?” I asked, rushing over to her. “Natasha?”
Her eyes fluttered closed, and she crumpled to the floor, her white gown billowing around her like a cloud. Her body began jerking—it looked like a seizure. Dropping to my knees, I yelled for help and turned Natasha’s face toward me, trying to keep it steady.
Her body stilled, but her skin was quickly turning an unhealthy shade of bright red.
Next thing I knew, Nick was at my side. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “A minute ago she was fine. . . .”
He checked her pulse, then immediately started CPR. “She’s not breathing.”
A crowd edged in around us. A worried Baz. A stony Vivienne. Glinda, Mimi. Reggie and Ivy had returned—probably to see what the hubbub was about.
As Nick worked, it seemed to me that the room around us went deathly quiet, watching, waiting.
I scooted back, out of his way, and joined the crowd. I slid a look at Ivy Teasdale.
The color had drained from her already fair skinned face, and she had one hand clapped over her mouth as if holding in a scream.
This was exactly what she’d been trying to avoid. Another “accident.”
With one twist.
The prime suspect in those incidents had just become a potential victim.
Chapter Six
“She was poisoned.”
After her bold statement, Harper stuck a tortilla chip into a bowl of salsa, loaded it up, and quickly stuffed it into her mouth before even a molecule could drip from its edges onto the coffee table.
How Harper could eat at a time like this was beyond me. Even though it had been hours since Natasha collapsed at my feet, my stomach remained twisted in knots.
Painful, painful knots.
We’d stuck around at the Wisp until the police cleared everyone from the building. It had been a chaotic exodus as dogs barked, cats hissed, and Cookie, a year-old Nigerian dwarf goat, broke loose from her leash and bounded off across the village green. She was still missing.
Ve had been found, but there hadn’t been time to ask her about the photographs, and though still important, the situation paled when compared to Natasha’s death. I just hoped my aunt had some insight on the whole photo situation, or I was going to have to trek into the woods to ask the Elder. I wasn’t sure I’d actually receive an answer from her, but I could at least try. She was a big believer in letting me figure out Craft quirks myself.
Harper had dropped Pie off at home, and then helped Mimi and me transport our menagerie to As You Wish. We were awaiting word from Nick, but so far we hadn’t heard a peep and were filling the time with speculation on what had happened to Natasha.
Staring at my sister in awe, Mimi held a chip suspended midair between the salsa bowl and where she sat on the floor next to the coffee table in Aunt Ve’s family room. “You really think so? Poison?”
Higgins rested on the floor next to her, his head on his paws. His dark woebegone eyes held a silent plea that the chip would miraculously fall from Mimi’s hand straight into his mouth. Enormous drool droplets hung like elastic stalactites from his lower jaw as he licked his lips in anticipation. He let out a crestfallen sigh when Mimi ate the chip in one bite.
Missy was giving me the cold shoulder, preferring to stay outside rather than in, which was fine with me as long as she remained in the yard. So far so good. The last time I’d checked, the furry little Houdini had been napping on the back step.
Aunt Ve’s Himalayan, Tilda, regarded us all with thinly veiled derision from her perch at the end of the mantel. She was, as usual, content to watch us from afar.
“A fast-acting poison,” Harper elaborated, simultaneously nodding while wiping her kewpie-doll lips with the back of her h
and. “Someone probably slipped something into her coffee. My guess is sodium cyanide or potassium cyanide.” She shrugged. “Something cyanide. A capsule of it would have easily dissolved in the liquid. Bing, bang, boom . . . no one would be the wiser until she collapsed.”
Long spiral curls of dark brown hair cascaded over Mimi’s shoulders as she leaned back against a pillow she’d pulled down from the love seat. “Wow. Poison. Unbelievable.”
“The red tint to Natasha’s face is a dead giveaway that it was cyanide.” Wincing, Harper added, “Bad choice of words, considering.”
Natasha was dead. The paramedics who’d arrived at the Wisp hadn’t even bothered to transport her to the hospital. Instead they’d called the medical examiner’s office, who as far as I knew were still at the function hall.
Along with Nick, who as chief of police was heading the investigation into Natasha’s untimely death.
Aunt Ve was dealing with the press. For the sake of the village’s reputation, she as village council chairwoman was trying her best to downplay the incident.
Which was incredibly hard to do, seeing as how a woman was dead.
A PR catastrophe, Ivy had warned. Her words were proving portentous.
I wanted to argue with what Harper was saying about the cyanide, truly I did. It was such a preposterous notion that someone could be poisoned in the middle of a large crowded event.
And not just poisoned.
That someone could be murdered.
Because, after all, if someone had slipped Natasha cyanide, surely the intent was to kill her.
The more I thought about it, however, the more Harper’s theory seemed entirely plausible.
What else could it have been but murder? Natasha had seemed perfectly healthy earlier in the day, especially when she’d been catting around with Baz Lucas. She was young. Active. Her sudden death was highly unusual, to say the least.
I didn’t know much about cyanide at all, but I didn’t doubt Harper’s knowledge of the poison. She was a forensics nut and had a steel-trap mind. If she suspected cyanide, I had every reason to suspect it, too.
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