Harmony crinkled her face, and I tried not to take it personally.
For heaven’s sake. Wishing I’d worn a hat, I said, “I’m just experimenting. It’s not staying. What happened with Lady Catherine?”
“I don’t know,” Marigold said, dabbing her eyes again.
At fifty or so, Marigold was short and squat. She carried her weight mostly in her midsection, and she almost always smelled of apples and cinnamon, which probably explained why I always thought of apple fritters whenever I ran into her. This morning, her normally beautiful short auburn hair stuck out every which way on her head, and she wore not a trace of her usually heavy-handed makeup.
“I let Lady outside just after six,” she explained, “and when I went to let her back in ten minutes later, she was gone. I’ve been searching for hours, and no one I’ve talked to has seen her at all.”
I knew where Marigold lived, and could easily picture her big house with its fenced-in yard. The puppies in the window yipped as I asked, “Was the gate open?”
Tears filled her eyes, and she nodded. “I could have sworn it was closed when I went to bed. I check it every night, when I lock the doors and shut off the lights. Maybe . . . I forgot to look last night. It had been quite the day, and I was tired.”
Reggie’s cane thumped against the floor as she came bustling out of the back of the shop, carrying a foam cup that had a tea string dangling down the side. “Here, my dear. Drink this,” she said, handing the drink over to Marigold.
I caught the scent of chamomile and thought it was a good choice to try to calm her down.
“We’ll do everything we can to help find her, won’t we, ladies?” Reggie said to us.
“Absolutely,” Harmony agreed. “Anything. Losing a pet is like . . . losing your heart.”
We all nodded solemnly.
Harmony kept patting Marigold’s shoulder. “She’ll turn up. Everyone who lives here knows who she is. She’s practically a local celebrity. It’s just a matter of time.”
Harmony also looked as if she hadn’t slept well, with the discolored circles under her eyes more prominent than ever. In her early forties, she seemed more flower child than businesswoman. She wore a peasant blouse with a pair of baggy capris and sandals that looked as though they’d come from Baz’s closet. Her long frizzy strawberry blond hair was pulled back in a loose braid that hung down her back nearly to her waist.
Marigold swiped at another tear and looked at her with a hopeful expression. “Did you find Cookie yet?”
“Not yet.” Harmony shook her head. “But I know she’s around here somewhere, as I saw the evidence on the walk over here.”
Reggie said, “The flowers will regrow, dear. Don’t you worry about that. Did you set out fresh water like I suggested?” She tossed me a glance. “Goats are very particular about their water. It has to be clean and fresh or they won’t drink it.”
“Six bowls,” Harmony said as she set the tissue box on the counter. “And thank you for setting one out front as well.”
“I have one out back as well. She’ll be fine,” Reggie said. “Goats are resilient animals.”
Reggie sat on a stool behind the counter and leaned her cane on the wall behind her. Even though she seemed to have energy to spare, I could only imagine the daily toll of running the shop took on her with her current health issues. I looked around. The shelves were sparse, most of the inventory marked with Sale stickers. The shop would close for good soon, and I was glad she wouldn’t have to endure another harsh New England winter.
“Keep an eye on the green today. Goats are herd animals,” Reggie told us. “She’ll be looking for friends to play with, and the green will be bustling with animals because everyone will be waiting there until they can get into the Wisp for their belongings. And perhaps,” Reggie added in a firm yet tender voice, “when you find her, you’ll consider another goat as a companion for her. Or perhaps a dog. Even a miniature donkey, but you will have to run that past the village council.”
Marigold sniffed. “Donkeys come in miniature?”
“Yes.” Reggie placed her hands over her heart. “And they are just the cutest things.”
“Aw,” Marigold said, looking at Harmony. “Think of your guests. You could have your own little petting zoo.”
Harmony cracked a small smile. “No. No donkeys, and don’t any of you dare mention it to Angela, or she’ll be online looking for one by nightfall.” She glanced around. “Her heart is way bigger than our yard.”
I thought about what Harper had said yesterday, about anything being available online. I was beginning to believe it was true. From cyanide to donkeys.
“But it won’t take up much space if it’s miniature,” I said, thinking a miniature donkey friend was exactly what Cookie needed in her life.
“And you have all that space behind the Pixie Cottage,” Marigold added. Her tears had dried and she seemed more in control. The tea had worked its magic.
Harmony shook a finger at us. “You all are as bad as Angela. I’m not getting a miniature donkey,” she insisted. “I can’t even keep track of a tiny goat. If only I hadn’t entered her in that competition, none of this would have happened . . .” Her voice trailed off, and an embarrassed flush colored her cheeks. “I’m sorry. Losing my goat is nothing compared to what happened to Natasha. I sound completely insensitive, don’t I?”
Marigold set her cup down. “If you were insensitive, Harmony, then I’m going to be wholly callous, because I didn’t care for Natasha at all. I’m sorry she died, but I won’t miss her.”
I was about to follow that up with some direct questions about why she felt that way when Reggie spoke up.
“She had her faults, but she seemed to love her cat. That’s a mark of genuine character that cannot be ignored.”
I held back a scoff at the mention of Natasha’s character. I’d seen it on full display in that hallway at the Extravaganza yesterday.
“Did she love her cat?” Marigold asked with a lifted eyebrow. “Or did she only use her cat to garner more attention for herself?”
No one answered, which I thought spoke volumes.
I recalled the way Titania had snuggled against me and wondered if she’d been affection-starved, because try as I might, I couldn’t remember a single time yesterday when Natasha had made a loving gesture toward her pet. It made me feel slightly ill.
“Where is Titania?” Reggie suddenly asked.
“I have her until I can track down someone in Natasha’s family who may want her,” I said. I glanced around the shop, my gaze landing on a turquoise collar that would be perfect for her. “It’s actually why I’m here. She needs a few things.”
Reggie laughed. “I’d been hoping this whole time that you’d come to tell me you were willing to sell your paintings here.”
“You’re selling your paintings?” Harmony asked, perking up. “I’d love one for the Pixie Cottage. The lovely little white mouse you painted for your display at the Extravaganza just calls out to me.”
I couldn’t help smiling. Mrs. P had once owned the bed-and-breakfast that now belonged to Harmony, and the two had formed a close bond. “I haven’t decided to sell yet, but if I do, I’ll keep your offer in mind. I’m just here to get a bowl, a collar, maybe a few toys, food, and a new litter box.”
“Dear, Titania’s more than welcome to come here,” Reggie offered. “I don’t mind at all and already have all the supplies. I know how Tilda can be.”
“Thanks, but Tilda actually enjoys her company, which is a slight miracle in itself.” I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t want to displace Titania again at this point. Not until she leaves for good.”
“Well, the offer stands,” she said. “Just call if you need me.” She grabbed her cane and came around the counter. “I’ll help you pick out what you need. I have some stock still remaining in my storage barn. If
you want something you don’t see here, just ask.”
Harmony bumped me with her shoulder. “Looks like Angela’s not the only one with a big heart. Maybe you should get the mini donkey.”
“At this point,” Marigold cut in, picking up her stack of flyers, “I’m thinking of getting a miniature donkey. But first, I need to find my Lady.”
“Do you want me to hand some of those out?” I asked her, pointing to the stack of paper in her hands.
“Oh! Yes, please,” she said.
“I’ll take some as well.” Harmony held out her hand. “I’ll be out and about looking for Cookie, so it’s no trouble at all.”
Reggie reached out. “I’ll take some, too.”
I glanced at the sheet again. “How much is the reward, exactly? In case anyone asks. You know how people are.”
“And they will definitely ask,” Harmony said, “especially since it says it’s big.”
“Five thousand,” Marigold answered without batting an eyelash.
My jaw dropped.
Harmony squeaked something intelligible.
Reggie gasped.
“I know it’s a lot,” said Marigold, “but I want her back. She’s worth every cent.”
We were still standing there, stunned, as Marigold thanked us all and waved as she went out the front door.
As soon as the door closed, Harmony read the Lost flyer again. “It’s probably wrong that I want to find Lady Catherine more than Cookie right at this moment, isn’t it?”
Reggie chuckled. “I’m thinking of closing the shop for the day, grabbing my scooter, and scouring the village. Five thousand dollars. Wow.”
“Once word gets out about this reward,” I said, watching Marigold cross the green, handing out flyers as she went, “the village will be overrun with people looking for her.”
“Not if I find Lady Catherine first,” Harmony said with a sly smile as she headed for the door.
It wasn’t until I paid for Titania’s supplies that I remembered I hadn’t asked Marigold any questions at all about her accident at the Wisp two years ago.
It was clear she hadn’t like Natasha—she’d said so herself—but had she killed the woman?
Chapter Seventeen
The overstuffed paper bag of goodies I’d bought for Titania banged against my leg as I headed across the green toward the Gingerbread Shack. I’d ended up buying much more for the cat than I intended, including a comfy new bed.
I was a goner where Titania was concerned.
“Darcy! Wait for me!”
I turned at the sound of my name, and found Ivy fast-walking toward me. I recognized her only because of her voice. She wore a wig of long blond hair, a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a short black shift dress with red flats.
When she reached me, I said, “What’s with the disguise?”
“Desperate times. I couldn’t even sleep at home last night. I had to sneak in through the back of Fairytails to sleep in my office. I have Extravaganzers camped on my lawn, roasting marshmallows over an improvised fire pit made from rocks taken from my garden. I closed the shop today so people can’t keep coming in to ask when the Wisp will reopen. I’ve been trying to reach Nick about it, but he’s not available,” she added, using air quotes around the last three words. “Can you get ahold of him?”
“I probably wouldn’t get an answer, either. He’s busy.”
Ivy dropped her head back and moaned. “Where is he? What’s he doing? I’m a taxpayer, too. I need these people to get their things and go home. My life has been upturned, overthrown. I’m going to have to keep Fairytails closed until they’re gone from the village. I’m losing money left and right.” She let out a heavy sigh and set her hands on her hips.
Never mind their lives. Just hers was affected.
Fighting an eye roll, I said, “Nick is at Baz Lucas’ serving a search warrant.”
“What? Why?”
“Something about Natasha’s death,” was all I said, unsure whether Baz’s affair was public knowledge yet.
“Why do the police think Baz is involved?”
“Nick doesn’t share that kind of information with me,” I said, lying through my teeth.
She paled. “So . . . Natasha’s death is connected to the Extravaganza?”
“We don’t know that yet.”
“But Baz was poisoned last year, and she was poisoned this year. . . .” She pushed a hand against her stomach. “Oh God. I think I’m going to be ill.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions,” I cautioned. “We don’t know anything yet. He’s just gathering facts right now.”
After a moment of processing that news, she cupped her face with her hands and said, “Maybe I should go over there. . . . I just need an idea from Nick about the Wisp, a general time frame to tell people.”
“Not a good idea.”
“Well, what do you suggest I do?”
I didn’t really have a good answer to that other than to tell her to chill the heck out, which wasn’t likely to go over well.
“Try to be patient.” I handed her some of the flyers that Marigold had given me. “You can hand out some of these while you’re waiting for word about the Wisp.”
She lifted her sunglasses, balancing them atop her hat. “Lady Catherine is lost?”
“Slipped out an open gate this morning. Marigold is offering a five-thousand-dollar reward.”
“Five thousand dollars?”
“She really wants her back.”
“I don’t blame her, but wow. That’s a lot of money. And what is going on around here?” she asked. “First Archie’s almost birdnapped, then Cookie broke loose, now Lady Catherine is missing?” She looked upward. “Is it a full moon?”
“I don’t think so.”
She said, “It sure feels like it. Listen, if you hear anything from Nick about the Wisp, please have him call me. Until then, I’ll be hiding at Fairytails.” She held up the flyers. “I’ll pass these out on my way over there.”
I heard her mumbling under her breath as she stormed off, tossing flyers at people she rushed past.
Shaking my head at her antics, I crossed the street. The bell on the Gingerbread Shack’s door rang out as I pulled it open. The shop was packed. Every table was full, and a line stretched almost to the door. Three people were working behind the counter, none of whom were Evan. Seeing the employees made me smile. Not so long ago, he’d been avoiding hiring more help, but he’d come around.
I scooted past the people waiting in line and headed for the kitchen. Evan was the only one in there, and he was flushed with exertion as he hand-mixed something chocolaty in a large bowl.
“It’s crazy out there,” I said.
“The longer the Wisp stays closed, the better it is for me,” he said with a broad smile. Flour smudged his cheek. He set the bowl down and wiped his hands on an apron hanging from his slim hips. “Did you need something? Besides a hairdresser, that is? Starla’s at the Magic Wand right now. I bet if you hurry, they could squeeze you in, too.”
“Don’t make me take your picture.”
He laughed. “Did you need something?”
“Two things. One, I need an order sent over to the construction crew at my house. And two, can I hang this in your front window?” I held up the Lost flyer.
He took the paper out of my hand. “Lady Catherine, too?”
Tipping my head, I said, “Too?”
“You didn’t see the other signs on your way in?”
I shook my head.
“Two dogs and a cat. All went missing sometime during the night. The cat was a village cat who tends to wander off from time to time, so it’s questionable whether he’s even lost, but the dogs were from the Extravaganza. Their owners had camped on Ivy’s front lawn last night, and when they woke up, the dogs were gone. They’re fran
tic, of course, and claiming someone stole them.”
“Did they see someone take them?”
“Not at all. But the dogs had been tied up, and the knots had been undone.”
Goose bumps rose on my skin. “Were the police called?”
“Yeah, but the officer who came out said they couldn’t do much but keep an eye out. The shop’s been buzzing all morning with talk of a petnapper on the loose.”
I thanked the Fates that Ivy hadn’t yet heard that gossip. If she had, she might have to be committed.
He held up the paper. “Do you think it’s possible Lady Catherine was snatched, too?”
“I don’t know,” I said. Marigold had mentioned that she thought she’d closed the gate. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
But it was becoming obvious that something big was happening with the pets, and it had started with Archie.
I needed to talk to that bird.
* * *
On my way back to As You Wish, I stopped at Spellbound.
Marcus Debrowski was behind the checkout counter, while Harper lay curled on her side in a corner of one of the two deep couches she had set up at the front of the shop. A book was practically glued to her nose as Pie cleaned his paws from a spot near her feet. Harper was so intent on her reading that she hadn’t noticed me come in.
Marcus caught my questioning eye and said, “She’s been like that all morning.”
I set my bag on the floor, nudged Pie out of the way, and sat next to my sister’s feet.
She didn’t budge.
The shop was busy, and I was happy to see that it was an equal mix of villagers and tourists. Harper needed local support to keep the store going. Ever since she bought the place, she’d thrown her heart into it. From changing the decor to a Starry Night theme, adding community events that including everything from book clubs to toddler hours, to providing a coffee and snack bar, she’d made it known that she was willing to do whatever it took to make her shop thrive. People had responded in a big way, not only to the changes, but to Harper. They recognized that she put her heart in all she did, and in turn, they were willing to open their hearts—and wallets—to her. She was quickly becoming a village favorite.
Gone With the Witch Page 15