Murder At The Festival: A Witch Cozy Mystery (A Bluebell Knopps Witch Cozy Mystery Book 5)

by Nancy McGovern

  With her tongue still burning from the momos, Bluebell drowned the crumble in whipped cream and sighed blissfully as she wandered along the decorated streets around the town square. In one corner, the high school band were practicing before the parade, while in another, a photographer from the local paper was looking through his camera and occasionally taking notes.

  The entire town seemed to be out and about, and although she didn't know any of them, Bluebell felt a kind of kinship with them. There was an air of happy energy that always envelops those who work together as a team to make an event happen, and the energy was infectious. Main street had been roped off, and cars diverted, so that people spilled off the sidewalk and onto the concrete. Teenage boys dressed in high-school letter jackets wore horse masks, and yelled "Go Stallions!" eliciting hoots of approval from older men. Three of the boys tried to swing from a street lamp, showing off for the girls in cheerleader costumes who artfully ignored them.

  Bluebell was wondering whether to eat a grilled sausage next, or opt for a Cornish pasty. Tilly Leimbach smiled at her from her stall, and offered her a hot dog free, which decided Bluebell. She had it in her hand and was happily chomping away, when she noticed Jamie's stepson Jack talking to a man in a side alley. Surprised, she watched them out of the corner of her eye.

  Jack was arguing intensely with the man, who was leaning against the brick wall with a toothpick in his mouth. The man was tall and thin, wearing a leather jacket and faded old jeans. Occasionally, he'd smile at Jack, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he did. Still, his smile looked more like the grin of a wolf as he approaches his prey, than a friendly assurance. Bluebell had an eerie feeling she'd seen the man before, but the thought quickly went out of her mind as she looked at Jack. Jack looked more and more distressed as he talked.

  Hating to eavesdrop, but unable to help her curiosity, Bluebell snuck closer.

  "It isn't happening, so you can just forget about it!" Jack exclaimed.

  "Doesn't look like you've got much choice, bud," the man said. "You've got to do what you got to do!"

  "Just leave me alone or I'll–" Jack's words were cut off as the high school band marched up the road, trombones and drums playing at full volume. Both he and the mysterious man turned around to see the band and caught sight of Bluebell instead. The man raised an eyebrow, and gave her a flirtatious smile.

  "Can I help you with something?" he asked.

  "You're Jamie's friend, right?" Jack looked disgusted. "What did she do, pay you to spy on me?"

  "Relax, Jack." The man pushed himself off the wall, and stretched. "I'll text you. Got it? Keep it cool."

  Something about the way he straightened up helped Bluebell recognize the man in a rush. "Charlie Leimbach," she said. "You're Craig's brother, right?"

  "My fame precedes me." Charlie smiled. His voice was deep, and velvety, and something shifted in his eyes as he looked at Bluebell. "I'm sure we haven't met before. I'd have recognized you."

  "You were a little busy when I last saw you," Bluebell said. "Someone else was yelling at you that day."

  Charlie's brow wrinkled. "I don't understand."

  "Your soon to be ex-wife," Bluebell said. "Jamie and I saw you argue with her at—"

  A large boom interrupted her. The first shot from the cannon, of three that would signal the start of the Turnip Parade. Already, all along the main street, the crowd was four-lines deep. At the very front stood dozens of toddlers. Bluebell recognized Jenny with her dozens of hair clips, and an exhausted looking Jamie in her woolen panda-hat.

  "I've got to go," Bluebell said.

  "Yes," Charlie said grimly. "You've got to go."

  She didn't know whether or not that was a threat, but Charlie Leimbach melted away into the crowds of people that thronged main street. The sun had almost set now, and a deep blue filter seemed to have been cast over the world. Shadows lengthened and the occupants of main street's many buildings began leaning out of windows, one by one lining up the turnip lanterns that stood along their window sills. In ten minutes, the sun had fully set, and only the candlelight illuminated the street. There was a second cannon blast.

  Cheers went up as a cluster of helium balloons with "I love Richtersdale" written on them were released into the sky. The high school marching band began an energetic rendition of Sinatra's My Way, and the townspeople began to clap and whistle along. Several people in the crowd were wearing horse masks, since Stallions were the official mascot of the local high school.

  Somehow, the good cheer she'd felt all afternoon had now disappeared. Something she'd eaten must have gone down the wrong way, because Bluebell had a stomach cramp. She also had a nauseating, overpowering feeling of dread.

  The third cannon gave its blast, and the cheers from the crowd were overwhelming. As for Bluebell, black dots began to overcome her vision. What was happening? She only knew that despite there being no cause for it, fear was running rampant through her body. Every fiber of her being was screaming at her – she just couldn't interpret those screams.

  The first of the parade floats began to make its way across the streets. It was led by a troop of elementary school children holding wreaths and bamboo spears in their hands, throwing coin shaped candies into the clapping crowd. Behind them, four old men wheeled along a sculpture of the Taj Mahal, glowing in the dark.

  Bluebell tried to spot Jamie in the crowd, but the faces seemed to blur together, and there wasn't enough light to tell one from the other. She was the only one not focussing on the parade – the entire crowd was intently looking at the sculptures and floats, cheering and occasionally making friendly taunts. Growing more and more frantic, Bluebell looked for Jamie, and then, from a distance, she spotted the Panda-hat that Jamie always wore. To her horror, she also spotted a gloved hand in the crowd, with a knife drawn. Before she could scream out a warning, the hand had plunged forward, and the knife was buried to the hilt in the victim's back.

  The crowd was so intent on watching the parade that people next to her didn't even notice as the woman sank to the ground. Then, split seconds later, Bluebell could see the ripple of horror that spread outward, as one after the other, people realized what had happened.

  "Murder!" someone shrieked. "Murder!"

  *****

  Chapter 6

  "Jamie!" Bluebell cried in distress. Once again, she'd been too late. Death had snatched a friend from right under her nose. Guilt washed over her in waves. How could she have relaxed her vigilance? She'd suspected something was wrong, but she hadn't been able to stop the murder from happening. Perhaps if she'd been by Jamie's side all along, instead of wandering around the stalls eating junk, she would have prevented this from happening!

  Tears streamed down Bluebell's face as she elbowed her way through the crowd.

  To her surprise, Charlie Leimbach was leaning over the body, his face and jacket splattered with blood. "No help for her," he said in a grim voice. "Somebody call the sheriff now! Where's Henry when you need him?"

  "Coming through!" A thin man with grey eyes wearing a sheriff's uniform ran forward, radio in hand. He barked a few orders through, and began instructing the crowd to move apart.

  Bluebell was already kneeling over the body, and although she knew it was hopeless, she muttered a healing spell under her breath, hoping against hope that it would work. She pressed her hand against the wound, and a very thin blue light seemed to shine through her palm. It died down almost immediately, and Bluebell slumped to the ground. It was no use. No magic could bring back the dead.

  Charlie Leimbach was looking at her wide eyed, and Bluebell muttered another spell under her breath. His eyes seemed to go out of focus for a moment, and then he shook his head. Good. Hopefully, he'd think it was all his imagination.

  "Henry." Charlie nodded to the Sheriff.

  "Who's the victim?" Sheriff Henry asked in an overly formal voice.

  "Don't know yet," Charlie said. "I wasn't sure if I should turn her, and she fell on her face…" />
  The Sheriff turned her over ever-so-slightly, then let her rest. With a sigh, he said, "I can't understand it! Who would want to kill Mrs. Lahey?"

  "Mrs. Lahey!" Bluebell exclaimed. "Then… you're telling me it isn't Jamie?"

  "Jamie?" Sheriff Henry blinked at her. "Why would you think it was Jamie?" His eyes narrowed. "Matter of fact, who are you?"

  "I'm a friend of Jamie's I'm staying with her," Bluebell said.

  "Well, you've got some explaining to do, ma'am. Why would you assume, of all people, that it was Jamie lying here dead?"

  "It's the panda hat Mrs. Lahey's wearing. That's Jamie's hat," Charlie Leimbach said. "I guess it's a simple enough mistake to make. I didn't notice it myself."

  "Right." Sheriff Henry frowned. "All right, Charlie, Miss…?"

  "Bluebell," Bluebell said. "Bluebell Knopps."

  "Ms. Knopps. I'd like you to come over to the station for some questioning, if that's convenient."

  "I saw the killer," Bluebell said. "At least I saw their hand. I saw a glove reaching out of the crowd with a flash of silver – the knife. But before I could call out the victim was dead."

  "Where were you when it happened?" the Sheriff asked.

  Bluebell pointed out the spot. The Sheriff looked suspicious, but nodded silently. "All right, I'd definitely like you to come over to the station for some questioning."

  "I have to find Jamie," Bluebell said. "I have to stay by her side!"

  "Why?" Charlie looked puzzled.

  "Don't you see?" Bluebell exclaimed. "The killer wasn't after Mrs. Lahey. It was Jamie he wanted!"

  The Sheriff looked both confused and doubtful. "Well just because—"

  "The entire town was dark, lit only by candles. Yet the killer wound his way through a crowd and somehow killed Mrs. Lahey!" Bluebell exclaimed. "How do you think he recognized his victim? The panda hat was an easily distinguishable mark, it just somehow ended up on the wrong victim's head."

  "Why are you so sure the killer is a male?" the sheriff asked. "In fact, you seem very sure about a lot of things." He narrowed his eyes.

  "Are you really suspecting me of killing her?" Bluebell asked, exasperated. "The real killer is probably laughing at—"

  "All right, let's let the Sheriff do his job." Charlie Leimbach pulled away Bluebell as she began to argue, and put a hand around her shoulder. Walking her away from the Sheriff, he said, "Some advice - don't badger Henry in the middle of an investigation. A murder investigation at that. He's got enough on his plate."

  "He didn't even listen to me!" Bluebell said.

  "You're acting like a hysterical thirteen year old. Of course he didn't listen to you," Charlie replied.

  His words were like cold water splashing on her face. Bluebell paused and took a deep breath. Charlie was right, she was getting carried away by emotion. The right thing to do would be to... calm down. To think through the next few steps. She centered her mind, breathing deeply, willing her heart to beat slower, and her breathing to normalize.

  Charlie wiped away the blood that had splashed onto his jacket with a handkerchief, and watched her with inquisitive eyes. As she opened her eyes and looked at him, Bluebell felt a sudden jolt. The world seemed to slow as she noticed the sensual curve of his lips, and his gentle topaz eyes. Energy seemed to pulse in the air around them, as he leaned toward her.

  Before his lips could touch hers, Bluebell put out a hand and pushed him away, rather harshly. He blinked and looked surprised as he opened his eyes.

  "Bad timing," he said, totally unapologetic. "Sorry."

  "Bad timing?" Bluebell spluttered. "You're in the middle of a divorce, and there's a woman dead not fifteen feet from you. That's all you can say?"

  "Hey, the presence of death just reminds us that life is fleeting," Charlie said. "Besides, you're pretty. Has no one ever told you that?"

  "You are..." Bluebell didn't even have the words. She didn't know what made her angrier, that he was so remorseless, or that she had been tempted, for the briefest of microseconds, to kiss him herself. The glint in his eyes told her that he knew it, and remembered it, which just made her angrier.

  "I have to go find Jamie," she said.

  "I'll come help." Charlie nodded. "She might have gone home."

  The crowd had thinned out somewhat, though people still milled about in small groups, occasionally giving sharp, worried glances at the body. An ambulance with flashing lights, along with two police cars, had made its way through the barricades and was now parked at an angle so that Bluebell's view of the body was blocked.

  She gave a sigh, and prayed that Jamie was all right. Charlie was already talking to several people, asking them if anybody had seen her.

  "The last I saw her was right before the parade," a man with a horse mask tucked under his arm said. "She was talking to Mrs. Lahey, actually."

  "You haven't seen her since?" Charlie asked.

  "Nope! Maybe she took Jenny home? Most of the parents have dragged their kids away. This really isn't the place for a toddler." The man rubbed his eyes, and pointed over to the Turnip Parade floats, which were standing abandoned in the middle of the road. "That's a terrible thing to happen at a parade." One by one, the candles were dimming and then blinking out, so that the sculptures looked as if parts had crumbled away.

  "Jamie's probably at home," the man said. "In fact, oh there's Craig now!"

  It was easy to spot Craig, considering he was head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd. His face looked unusually solemn as he asked the teens in the horse masks a brief question, shook his head at their reply, and mowed through the crowd.

  "Bro!" Charlie called out, waving his hands. "Over here!"

  Craig looked over, gave him a grim once-over, and said, "I've got no time for your nonsense, Charlie. Don't start on me again."

  "I'm not starting anything," Charlie said, making his way over to him. "Bluebell here was worried about Jamie. I gather you are too."

  "Jamie?" Craig looked confused. "Jamie's at home with Jenny."

  "But, I thought you were looking for her," Charlie said. "You seemed like you were looking for somebody."

  "Jack," Craig said. "Nobody's seen him since the parade. He was supposed to be with his friends, but they said he never met them." Craig jerked his thumb backwards at the nervous looking teens in their high school jackets.

  Charlie looked embarrassed. "Oh. Jack. Well, I suppose he'll take care of himself. Nothing to worry about."

  "Plenty to worry about," Craig said. His face looked haunted.

  "Right now," Bluebell said with conviction, "the only thing we need to worry about is that Jamie is at home alone with Jenny!"

  *****

  Chapter 7

  Jamie had just tucked Jenny to sleep when she heard the doorbell ring. Thinking it might be Craig, she made her way downstairs. Without bothering to wonder why Craig hadn't used his own key, or asking who was at the door, she yanked it open and hurriedly said, "Did you find Jack? Oh Craig I'm so…"

  She fell silent then. The driveway was empty. She could see Craig's car approaching up the road but then… who had just rung the bell?

  She looked down at her feet, and gave a little horrified gasp. A hunting knife lay on the ground, its large blade glistening under the lamplight.

  Craig was running up the driveway by then, and embraced her as soon as he reached her. "Are you all right, baby?" he asked.

  "The… door… someone rang and I…" Jamie looked down at the knife. "I don't know what that means."

  "Bluebell and I were driving up and I thought I saw a man with a ski mask at the door!" Charlie exclaimed. "It was too dark to make out but…" He shivered. "Bluebell said it's you the murderer is after. Not Mrs. Lahey!"

  "I can't... how could that possibly be, Craig? I can't imagine! No one could possibly want to hurt me, or even Mrs. Lahey. I keep hoping there's some way this is an awful accident."

  "It isn't," Craig said. "No doubt about it, this is a vicious murder."
>
  Bluebell hopped out of the car along with Leo. The dog had his tail tucked under him, as if he was ashamed he hadn't been at home to protect his mistress.

  "Bluebell, I'm so sorry!" Jamie exclaimed. "In all the panic, I completely forgot that you were probably stranded in the town centre. I can't tell you how much I—"

  "It's perfectly all right," Bluebell said. "Jamie, I was just worried about you."

  "You were right to be," Craig said. "If we'd reached here a moment late… if the killer hadn't seen us coming and decided to bolt, Jamie might be dead!"

  The three of them stood still, as the full reality of what had just happened hit them. Bluebell made a silent vow to herself that she wouldn't leave Jamie alone again, come what may. Her friend's life was in danger, and she was going to do her best to save her.

  "We know who it is, don't we?" Craig said with a sigh. "The difficult part will be getting Henry to arrest him."

  "You mean Boyd?" Jamie asked.

  "He's had it in for you since you fired him," Craig said. "There's no doubt he's the one who tried to kill you."

  "Well… I…"

  "I just don't understand why you defend him," Craig said. "He's a drunkard and a fool. Someone needs to lock him up and throw away the key."

  "Craig, don't get worked up…" Jamie was trying to calm him down, stroking his shoulders. The big man was shaking with rage. "Honey, we might all just be paranoid about this. I'm alive, and I'm unharmed, after all. It's poor Mrs. Lahey who was killed."

  "Yes, Mrs. Lahey, who was wearing your panda hat!" Craig exclaimed. "How did she get it anyway?"

  "Oh she was complaining about the cold, and I lent it to her," Jamie said. Her eyes welled up. "I… I had no idea that would be the last time I'd speak to her. I was so uncharitable too. I just mockingly told her that she could have my hat if she was really feeling cold, I didn't think she'd actually take it. I feel horrible now. I was always so mean to her! She was cantankerous, but she was just a harmless old lady."