Gone With the Witch

by Heather Blake

  I explained my suspicions.

  Mrs. P said, “That’s low. Lower than low. To steal a pet and sell it off.”

  “I cannot comprehend such an action,” Godfrey said. Then he chuckled. “Yes, I may have looked into selling a pudgy brown mouse a time or two, but I never followed through. Yet.”

  “Do not make me bite you,” Pepe warned.

  “Don’t make me step on you,” Godfrey returned.

  Mrs. P and I ignored them. Sometimes it was the best tactic to take with the two of them.

  “I thought Ivy’s shop was doing well?” Mrs. P said. “She always has a steady stream of business, and I’ve never heard anyone speak badly of her.”

  “I don’t know.” I sat back on the stool. “All I know is that she seems desperate for money.”

  “Sadly, I’ve seen this time and again.” Pepe stood and paced the table. “The village has had its fair share of business turnover through the years. Rent is astronomical on leased shops—there are employees to pay, inventory to update. Ivy probably earns enough to stay afloat, but little more. It takes time to become financially sound, and that is only if one has a good financial adviser and much luck.”

  “My guess would be that Ivy used some of the Extravaganza funds to offset the costs of the shop,” Godfrey added. “Without them . . .”

  No wonder Ivy had been so freaked-out about the success of the Extravaganza. Her whole livelihood depended on it.

  “Even still.” Mrs. P sniffed. “Stealing a pet, then selling it? Abhorrent. She must be stopped.”

  “Let’s look at the footage first,” I said, “before we go running her out of the village.”

  “I’ll check as soon as possible and will let you know,” Godfrey promised. “Now, you should go, before you’re late.” He handed me the blank check. “Do not forget this. You will need it.”

  I was running late, but I couldn’t leave without asking one last question. I bit my lip, unsure what I should reveal about my Elder theory. “Just one more thing . . .”

  “What is it, doll?” Mrs. P asked.

  “There’s been this bird, a mourning dove . . . ,” I began.

  I saw Mrs. P slide Pepe a look, and I knew I was onto something.

  “A lovely breed of bird,” Godfrey said, his voice high. “Lovely.”

  I glanced at him.

  He wiped his brow with his pocket square.

  I was definitely onto something.

  “It’s a long story, but I’m starting to think the bird is a Crafter, and I’m curious about one thing.”

  All stared at me blankly, and I could only imagine what was running through their minds if the bird was truly the Elder in disguise. Because none of them would be able to tell me the truth if I asked point-blank.

  “Oh?” Mrs. P finally said as she wrung her hands. “What’s that?”

  “Is there a form of the Craft where the witch takes on an animal form?” I asked. “Animal morphing? Or some kind of shape-shifting?”

  Godfrey continued to mop his forehead. “Animal morphing?”

  I nodded. “Like, say, a woman becomes a mourning dove and then turns back to a woman. Or, I should say, the Elder becomes a mourning dove, then turns back into the Elder, who is some woman in this village, identity unknown.”

  Pepe used his tail to mop his brow. “Non.”

  I’d clearly made them nervous. I scooted the rolling stool right up to the table and stuck my face close to his and gave him a raised eyebrow. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you?”

  “Ma chère.” He pressed his hand to his chest. “On my honor, there is no such Craft that transforms a witch from human form to animal and back again. It does not exist. I do not know why it does not exist, because it would be a marvelous addition to the Craft, but non. I am sorry.”

  I glanced at Mrs. P.

  The hair between her ears had drooped. “He’s right. There is no such Craft.”

  Godfrey was my last chance. “Do you concur with Pepe as well?”

  “Absolutely,” he said quickly. “The old mouse knows of what he speaks. He is, after all, the expert in all things Craft, which is one of the benefits of his great age.”

  “That is it!” Pepe exclaimed, raising his fists. “Prepare to defend yourself, pork chop.”

  Mrs. P sat with a heavy sigh and put her head in her hands.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m going to head out before I witness any more bloodshed. Thanks for everything.” I kissed Godfrey’s cheek and the tops of Mrs. P’s and Pepe’s heads.

  It had started to sprinkle by the time I walked out of the store, the rain spitting from the sky in random bursts. I glanced over my shoulder at the shop.

  I had been so certain there had to be a Craft that could animal morph, but if Pepe swore on his honor that there wasn’t, then I believed him. He held his honor in the highest regard.

  What was more curious to me at this point was why none of them had debunked my notion that the Elder had been the bird.

  It was very curious indeed.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Alina Norcliffe looked very much like her sister. The same long dark hair, the same triangular face. Thin and petite, she roamed around Natasha’s living room, adding items to three piles she had created on the floor.

  Sell. Keep. Donate.

  The sell pile was overflowing.

  The donate pile was laughably small.

  The keep pile was mournfully minuscule.

  Apparently, Alina wasn’t much for sentimentality. Or respectful mourning periods.

  The studio apartment was tiny but cluttered. One quick glance was all it took to see the whole place. Kitchen, bedroom, dining space. A tiny bathroom was behind me, and clothes spilled out of a closet near the bed.

  “Don’t you have to wait for probate before selling Natasha’s things?” I asked, wincing as she tossed books into the sell pile.

  She wore a long flowing halter-style maxi dress and too much perfume. The scent was making my eyes water. When I knocked, she’d given me a long once-over, and I was relieved that Godfrey had worked his magic on me. Although I wore simple jeans and a blouse, they must have been designer quality, because she had nodded in approval. I could only imagine what her look would have been if I’d showed up in what I had been wearing.

  Gold bracelets clinked on her arm as she made a sweeping motion with her hand. “It’s all mine. My books, my furniture, my everything. I pay the rent, the utilities. Natasha made scraps at the playhouse. What she earned barely covered her food and makeup costs.”

  The makeup, I imagined, had cost more than the food by far.

  Alina picked up a toy mouse and tossed the faux critter at me. “I suppose we should get to the reason why you’re here. Titania. She’s a very valuable cat. I paid for her, so I should know.”

  “She’s your cat?”

  “She was a gift to my sister. Natasha didn’t particularly care for cats, but she believed Titania would help her break into the acting business. Titania has an audition with a talent agent next week in Hollywood, you know.”

  The mouse was the only cat toy I could see. Not scratching tree, no feather-on-a-stick, no bed. I recalled how Annie craved my attention, and I grew angry on her behalf.

  Do not show my hand, do not show my hand. “You’ll be taking over her career, then? Wonderful. I can’t wait to see her on TV.”

  “I actually haven’t decided yet. . . .” She eyed me.

  I suddenly realized Godfrey had been right. Alina didn’t want Titania. At all. She was feeling me out to see how interested I was in adopting the cat—and how much money she could charge me to do it. I almost did a little jig right there on the sofa.

  I decided it was time someone turned the tables on the con artist.

  That someone was me.

  “Wel
l, she’s a beautiful cat—that’s for sure. She doesn’t really like to be touched all that much by strangers, but that shouldn’t be too much of an issue if you’re there with her to calm her down. I’m sure show business people are used to being scratched.”

  “Scratched?”

  I showed her the marks on my arm that Clarence’s nails had left behind, and she recoiled.

  “I would have brought her with me,” I went on, spinning a web, “but the less jostling for her right now, the better. Her stomach has been unsettled since leaving the Wisp, and—lesson learned—I’ve been keeping her confined to the bathroom for easier cleanups.” I wrinkled my nose as I lied through my teeth. “I’m sure the stains will come out of the rugs with a little elbow grease. Or at least I hope so. The smell, though . . . that’ll take time. You can pick her up when you’re ready to head back home.”

  Horror flashed in her eyes.

  I kept tight hold of the mouse toy as I said, “I’ve been holding off on calling a vet, because I think maybe the stomach upset is just from the distress of being moved around so much. Do you know if she gets like that every time she travels?”

  “I—I don’t know. Natasha never mentioned anything.”

  I tipped my head. “You might want to be certain before taking her on a plane.”

  She sat on the arm of a chair, and her shoulders slumped.

  “Or perhaps it’s her new diet. She might have a particular kind of food she likes better than the type I had on hand.” I silently apologized to Annie for making up all these lies. “And you’ll probably want to buy some absorbent pads at the Furry Toadstool to line the cat carrier for the ride down to the Cape. Just keep the windows down, and I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  Thin penciled eyebrows dipped down in dismay and panic. “I don’t think Titania would like my house. We have dogs. Big dogs. Guard dogs.”

  Somehow I doubted she had dogs at all.

  “Does the Furry Toadstool have an adoption service?” she asked.

  I bit back a smile as she flopped around in the web I’d woven. “No, they don’t. If you don’t want her, I’m sure the local shelter would take her in. It’s a no-kill shelter, so that’s a plus. They charge a small intake fee, but it’s pennies, really.”

  “A fee to drop off a cat?”

  “It’s a nonprofit organization, and it costs to house and feed an animal. It’s not that much, really. Twenty dollars, I think.” She’d probably paid that much for only one of her fake eyelashes.

  “Yeah,” she murmured, looking as if she’d knock Tiny Tim’s crutch out from beneath his hand if she passed him on a street corner.

  “You could always sell her online,” I said, hating the words I was speaking. “But that’ll take some time to get the ad together, interview potential adopters, that kind of thing. And of course, you’d have to disclose any of her foibles, like the scratching, or risk being sued.”

  I had no idea if she could actually be sued for such a thing, but knew the thought alone would hurt her where it counted most. Her pocketbook.

  “There are no other options?” she asked, the hint of a cry in her voice.

  “Does Natasha have a friend here in the village who’d take her? It would probably be the easiest transaction of all.”

  She sighed. “Not really. Just Chip the cheapskate, and he’s allergic.”

  “Cheapskate?”

  The bracelets clinked again as she waved her hand. “Just Natasha’s nickname for him. They dated for a while, but he was a penny pincher.”

  “And Natasha wasn’t a penny-pinching type of girl.”

  “Not at all. There was chemistry between them, but they were never going to last as a couple if he wasn’t going to spend a little money on her.”

  I stared at the toy mouse. “Perhaps you can ask Baz if he’d take Titania. Seems he was close to Natasha.”

  “He hates cats. He was trying to get Natasha to get rid of Titania before they married.” Alina smiled. “He stood no chance in that argument.”

  “Why? If Natasha didn’t like cats all that much, either?”

  “Because if things turned bad with Baz, she still had Titania to fall back on.”

  I squeezed that tiny mouse so tight I thought its head might pop off.

  “She needn’t have worried,” Alina said breezily. “Baz stood no chance in any argument. He was so smitten . . . it was almost embarrassing. I warned Natasha not to get involved with him, despite his money, but she wouldn’t listen. All she saw was her ticket out of here. And now she’s dead, so it seems I was right. She rarely listened to me.”

  It seemed to me that Alina was more upset at the fact her sister never listened to her than at the fact she was dead.

  I’d never been so grateful for my relationship with Harper in all my life.

  “Why the warning in the first place?” I asked.

  “He had too much baggage,” she said. “Too many women. Serial cheaters do not make good spouses, especially when he was chattering about prenup agreements. She might have dumped him, too, if the threats hadn’t started.”

  “He threatened her?”

  “Not him. I assume it was his wife. Natasha’s car had been keyed, her house broken into and notes warning her to stay away from Baz found on her bed, and she felt as though she was being followed.”

  “When was all this?” Glinda had been following her for a while, so that could be explained. But not the other incidents.

  “Right after she started dating him,” she said. “A month or so ago.”

  “Did she go to the police?”

  Alina laughed. “Hell no. She accepted the challenge! There’s nothing she enjoyed more than competition.”

  I’d seen that myself at the Wisp.

  “Natasha stepped up her pursuit of Baz. First, she withheld sex until he agreed to ditch his other women for just her, then reeled him in. He didn’t stand a chance once she turned on her full charms. Last time I talked to her, she thought she had won the battle because Baz wanted to get married and the threats had stopped, but she underestimated the anger and jealousy of a woman scorned, and ended up losing everything.”

  “Seems to me that everyone lost in this situation.”

  She picked cat hair from her dress, frowned at it. “Yes, I guess so.”

  “Did she love him at all? Baz?”

  “Love is for fools,” she said, sounding as if she believed it. “And Natasha was no fool.”

  At that, I said, “I should probably get going. Let me give you my phone number. Just call when you’re ready to pick up Titania.”

  She jumped up. “I really can’t take her back with me. I don’t suppose you’d . . .” She lifted hopeful eyebrows.

  I played dumb. “Me . . . what?”

  “That you’d keep her?” she suggested. “She’s already accustomed to your house, so I’m sure the stomach problems will stop soon.”

  I was dancing inside, positively twirling. On the outside, I was trying my best to look as if I thought her suggestion was the worst idea in the whole world. “I don’t know . . . the rugs . . .”

  She grabbed her purse and pulled a hundred dollars from her wallet. “Here, take this. Let me pay for the rug cleaning. It’s the least I can do.”

  Pretending to weigh the decision, I tipped my head left and right. “I mean, I’d rather keep her than see her be sold online to just anyone. Okay, I’ll take her, but I won’t take your money.”

  I got what I came for, and that was more than enough.

  Looking relieved, she quickly tucked the money back into her purse and rushed me to the door, apparently worried I would change my mind. “Thanks. You’re doing me a big favor.”

  If she only knew.

  I waved as I walked down the walkway, and as soon as I was out of sight, I realized I was still holding the toy mouse.r />
  As I passed by a trash can at the street corner, I tossed the mouse in.

  I didn’t want to bring back any reminder to Annie of where she had come from.

  Today marked a new start, a new life, for her.

  One filled with nothing but the love she deserved.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “What did Godfrey say when you gave him back his blank check?” Starla asked as we walked around the village green later that night.

  Twink and Missy walked side by side ahead of us, straining their leashes to sniff every blade of wet grass they came across.

  It was a little past eight, and the rain had stopped, but heavy cloud cover remained behind. Darkness would come early tonight.

  “He dropped to his knees and kowtowed, like I was the Queen of Sheba or something.”

  She laughed. “He did not.”

  “He did so. But then he couldn’t get up again, so Pepe started taunting him. . . . It turned ugly fast.”

  “No!” she cried, laughing so hard tears leaked from her eyes.

  “I had to call Harper for help. Marcus came, too, and he pulled a back muscle lifting Godfrey up. Then we had to call Cherise, who came and fixed up Marcus and told Godfrey he needed to go on a diet. And when Pepe started to tease about that, Cherise told him he needed a diet, too. There was a lot of outrage and cursing in both English and French, and slamming of doors, though Pepe’s door doesn’t quite have the same impact as Godfrey’s. It was more a squeak than a slam.”

  Starla stopped walking and wiped tears from her eyes. “You’re killing me.”

  “It’s been quite the day.” An understatement.

  “I’d say so.”

  Her hair was back to normal, as Ve had tracked her down earlier and plucked a hair from her head, too. I hadn’t seen my aunt since this morning. She was an expert at evasion. Earlier, I’d come home to a note from Ve that she had picked up Mimi after her bookstore shift, and they were out running errands. She didn’t know when they’d be back and told me not to worry.

  “Still no sign of Vivienne?” Starla asked.

  “None.”

  Her car had been found abandoned two blocks from where Baz had been hit, behind the middle school. It had been full of her belongings, and a search had revealed a baggie of unidentified capsules hidden beneath one of the floor mats.