If Gavin Gorman had been after Annette's pen, he might have been tipped off about its value by his uncle. Or perhaps by someone more dangerous than the Gormans. Someone who also knew about the enchanted object, and killed Annette for it.
Unfortunately, as tidy as Zinnia's theory was, it couldn't be true if the pen was worthless. Sure, the attacker could have taken the magical pen and replaced it with an ordinary duplicate, but that didn't match up with the murder method. An attack that violent spoke of anger, a fit of rage—the opposite of planning.
Zinnia had only one test left.
She went to her fridge and grabbed the grocery list. She paused to look at the photographs that were also stuck there with magnets. The pictures were from the office's first night bowling as The Incredibowls. There were several group shots, and one of Jesse and Zinnia together in the retro arcade, posing by the Donkey Kong machine. They had their cheeks pressed together, and Jesse had taken the picture himself, with his phone.
Zinnia looked away. Thinking of happier times right now only made her feel sad, yet she was grateful to have the evidence in front of her. Better times existed, and they would come around again. That was the whole point of putting such things on one's fridge door.
She returned to the table and wrote cucumbers on the grocery list. She didn't feel anything magical in her fingers. A common yet low-value pen enchantment was a spell for tidy handwriting. Unfortunately, the word cucumbers came out no more tidy than usual. The cursive letters were very round and tidy, but that was normal for Zinnia. She wondered, could one even improve on perfection? She had a little snort to herself. Zinnia had excellent penmanship, unlike so many young people these days, and she allowed herself to feel pride in that.
She switched the pen to her non-dominant hand and wrote peas and carrots, peas and carrots, peas and carrots. The writing was about as scratchy and awkward as she'd expected. There was no tidy handwriting spell in place.
She unscrewed the cap and cast a magnifying glass spell so she could get a close look at the components. There were no secret spy devices inside. No computer data drive or valuable metals. So why had Gavin been trying to grab this pen off Annette's corpse? Had he actually been after something else? She screwed the pen back together and wrote another line of peas and carrots. Still nothing magical.
Her internal timer dinged. It was the time she would normally be leaving for work. Should she go to City Hall? It hadn't been discussed yesterday. The department wouldn't be operating as though it was an ordinary day, would it?
Bright words flashed in her head.
It was a magical preview of the flood of text messages that would be coming to her phone over the next few minutes. Zinnia was blessed with a psychic ability that had very specific limitations. She knew when someone was about to text or phone her, but her prescience was limited to a range of thirty seconds to two minutes. Less time than a television station's commercial break. It could be handy at times, but it took a clever witch to turn such a limited gift into something useful.
She mentally read the full message while sending her second breakfast plate toward the sink. The dish smashed into the wall behind her. Zinnia winced. Multi-tasking wasn't the most efficient way to work, and her telekinesis was still rusty, apparently.
She brought the books and pen upstairs to their hiding places. She was heading for the front door when the first text message came in the regular way. She didn't have to look at her phone. She already knew it was from Karl, and it was a group message that he had sent to the whole office, including Annette Scholem. Either he didn't know how or couldn't be bothered to remove the dead woman from the group email.
The text of his email said that word had come down from the Powers That Be, and the Permits Department would be open for business today as usual, no matter what.
Chapter 8
Wisteria City Hall
8:25 am
When Zinnia arrived at work, two members of the local forensics team were in the hallway, removing black and yellow crime scene tape from the door.
One of them, a chipper young woman with big lips and a low ponytail, held the door open for Zinnia and cheerfully said, “After you!”
Zinnia stood still in the hallway. “Are you sure your team has gotten everything?”
“The body has been cleared out.”
The body. She meant Annette's body. It wasn't just “any ol' body.” Annette was a real person.
And yet, now that twenty-four hours had passed, the shock was not quite as sharp. The loss was not quite as dark and bottomless. Zinnia wondered, was it the tea, or just time? Was it so easy to get over the loss of an unmarried, childless woman of a certain age? How long until Miss Ponytail was cheerfully removing “the body” from Zinnia's house?
Miss Ponytail looked into Zinnia's eyes. “I said you can go ahead, ma'am.”
“What about the other evidence? Isn't it unusual for a crime scene to be opened so quickly?”
Miss Ponytail glanced at her partner before answering. “Ma'am, we were sent here by the mayor herself, Paula Paladini, to make sure everything was open and ready for business today. I don't know what you people do in here—”
“We issue permits,” Zinnia said flatly. “Permits for everything from sport fishing to throwing parades.”
Miss Ponytail took the information in stride and continued in a professional tone. “Well, whatever it is you do, it must be very important to the town.”
Her partner, an older man who was crumpling black and yellow tape in his hands, shifted the ball to one hand and reached for a business card. “Ma'am, here's the case file number in case you have any questions for Detective Fung.”
Zinnia had Fung's number, but she took the card anyway. She thanked the forensics crew for their service and walked into the office to find her coworkers standing in the reception area.
Twenty-four hours after the discovery of Annette's death, the office was still in disarray. Only now instead of a corpse, a pool of blood, and a ripped window screen, the chaos centered on a maintenance crew of six people. Three of them were cutting carpet into strips and rolling up the strips, and the other three were scrubbing the concrete under the carpet pad with what smelled like undiluted bleach.
Dawna waved her long orange fingernails under her nose. “Peee-ew! Those chemicals are making my eyes water.”
Jesse put his arm around Dawna's shoulders in a protective gesture. “The smell is awfully strong,” he said. “Let's get you into the break room and see if you can keep down some coffee today. Were you still throwing up last night at home?”
Gavin sidled over to Dawna and squeezed his arm under Jesse's so that he was the one hugging her shoulders. Gavin lifted his chin and sniped at Jesse, “Never mind about what Dawna does at home.”
Jesse pulled his arm away and held up both hands. “Easy now. It's going to be a long day for all of us. Let's not start off on the wrong foot.”
Gavin puffed up his chest. “Then keep your arms to yourself, Lover Boy.”
In response to being called Lover Boy, Jesse only grinned. That was just like Jesse Berman. Whenever someone insulted him, he found it more amusing than upsetting. It was one of his most endearing qualities. He was as good-natured as he was effortlessly good-looking.
The two men stared at each other. Gavin kept raising his chin and leaning forward, as though he meant to hit Jesse with his chin.
Dawna rolled her eyes. “Gavin, this is why I keep breaking up with you. You always pick the wrong moments to man up. And your interpretation of manning up is not normal.”
That only made Gavin thrust his chin around more, which made Jesse chortle.
Gavin said to Jesse, “What are you laughing at? I'll give you something to laugh about.”
Jesse replied, “No, Gavin. You've already given us all so much.”
Then Karl decided to weigh in with his opinion about both of them. “You two young bucks dress too casual. You should dress for the job you want, not the one you ha
ve!”
Dawna continued berating Gavin about his flaws, Karl continued giving wardrobe advice, and everyone got louder and louder.
Margaret, who was the only person other than Zinnia who wasn't making noise, put two fingers in her mouth and let out a loud whistle. Zinnia detected a little magic oomph in the whistle.
Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing. Even the cleanup crew stopped rolling and scrubbing to give their full attention to the stout, gray-haired woman with the commanding whistle.
“Thank you for your attention,” Margaret said, clapping her hands once. “Now, children, here's how things are going to go down today. Obviously nobody can work in the main area until the new carpet's been installed, so we'll have to split up and share desks. Jesse and Karl, you're each going to take a person into your office.”
Karl gulped and looked dismayed, but didn't disagree.
Margaret clapped her hands again, and ordered the maintenance crew to get back to work. All six did as they were told.
Dawna muttered, “Coffee.”
They all murmured in agreement and walked as a group into the break room, still discussing who was going to sit in which office. Nobody wanted to double up with Karl, even though his office had the only window. Surprise, surprise.
9:45 am
Nobody had to share an office with Karl after all.
The maintenance crew had been incredibly speedy. The new carpet was laid down and the desks had been returned to their usual spots by the time the group had wandered out of the break room. With nothing left to argue about, they'd all gotten down to work.
After working quietly for what felt like five hours, Zinnia looked at the clock. It was only 9:45 am. But it wasn't coffee time yet, which meant the break room would be empty.
Zinnia tossed a wadded-up ball of paper at Margaret. When Margaret looked up from her work, Zinnia said softly, “We should probably take a moment to talk in private.
Margaret said, “You read my mind.” She jumped to her feet. “I'll go first. Give me a few minutes to go ahead and get everything set up.”
Zinnia agreed, then she killed time by twirling in her swivel chair and looking around the office. The maintenance crew had been as tidy as they'd been fast. The air smelled of bleach, mingled with the chemical tang of new commercial carpet. Everything had been returned to normal on the surface. A stranger walking in for a permit wouldn't have any clue something terrible had happened there the night before. They would never guess that the desk in the back corner was empty because the person who normally sat there had been brutally slain only two feet away.
As Zinnia was looking at Annette's empty desk, Annette's phone began to ring.
There was a collective gasp in the office. Everyone turned to look at the ringing phone.
From inside his office, Karl called out, “Grab that incoming line, Zinnia. You're the closest.”
Zinnia answered the phone, her voice trembling. “Good morning. Wisteria Permits Department. Zinnia Riddle speaking. How may I help you?”
A man replied, his voice cracked from age, “Good. You're open today. Bye.” His end of the line clattered and went dead.
Zinnia hung up the phone and turned to Dawna and Gavin, who were both watching her with saucer eyes. “Just a random citizen,” she said. “An older gentleman checking to see that we're open.”
“We sure are.” Dawna rubbed her arms. Yesterday's broken nails had been repaired and painted an even brighter orange than the day before. Dawna continued, “It's so creepy being here without Annette.”
“Not as creepy as being here with her yesterday,” Gavin said. “On account of how she was dead.”
Dawna turned away from her on-again off-again boyfriend, shaking her head in disgust.
Dawna asked Zinnia, “Do you think Annette would have wanted us to be working here today?”
Zinnia had gotten up to meet Margaret in the break room. She slowed by Dawna and Gavin's shared work station.
“Yes,” Zinnia said. “Annette would have wanted us all to be together, to support each other.”
Dawna jumped up and threw her arms around a surprised Zinnia. “You're so nice, Aunt Zinnia,” she said.
Zinnia pulled back to look into Dawna's face. “What did you call me?”
Dawna used a knuckle to wipe a tear from her eye. “Aunt Zinnia. That's funny, isn't it? Maybe I called you that because you remind me of my aunties. Not on account of your looks, of course, but because you're so nice.”
Gavin snorted. “You wouldn't feel that way if Zinnia had slapped you.”
Zinnia jokingly waved her hand at Gavin, as if to imply she'd happily slap him again.
Gavin quickly got back to work, as did Dawna.
Zinnia continued on her way to the break room. She encountered a putrid smell just outside the doorway. What was that? Had the carpet installation crew inadvertently released something toxic into the air? It smelled like a cross between burned popcorn and a sewage treatment plant. Had someone microwaved popcorn and durian fruit for twenty minutes too long? She pinched her nose and pushed through. The break room was thankfully stench free.
Margaret was beaming proudly. “Great stink bubble, don't you think?”
Zinnia whispered, “I thought you needed a few minutes to set up a sound bubble.” The witches used the simple sound barrier spell whenever they needed privacy in a public space.
“I did.” Margaret kept beaming. “It's a sound bubble that I custom blended with a stink bomb.”
“You mixed two spells?”
“Sure. I do it all the time. I whipped this particular one up a couple years back so I could enjoy a few minutes of privacy in my bathroom without the kids barging in. I don't get to use it much these days, now that the little ones have grown past that phase. And not a minute too soon. Have you ever seen eight little hands trying to wiggle through the crack under the bathroom door? Do you know how many wiggly fingers that adds up to? It's a terrifying sight. Possibly more terrifying than disrupting a nest of bone-crawlers.”
Zinnia shuddered at the thought of either.
Margaret started making a fresh pot of coffee. “What's on your mind?”
Zinnia cut to the chase. “Do you think Karl is capable of murder?”
“Karl Kormac? Our Karl? No way. That bulldog is all bark, no bite.”
“Hah,” Zinnia said. “That's exactly what I said to Fung last night.”
Margaret shot her a look of concern. “Karl is a suspect?”
Zinnia explained what she'd witnessed the previous day, when Karl had changed his alibi to what Fung felt was a confession.
When she was done, Margaret said, “That is suspicious.” She checked that the sound barrier was still in place and continued. “So, Karl was in the staff parking lot at three in the morning. He saw Annette's car there, but he says he didn't go in?”
“They'll have to take his word for it, since the security system was down.”
Margaret twirled the single gray curl that hung in the center of her forehead like a rhino horn. “Poor Karl never got over Annette rejecting him.”
“He had a motive, and the opportunity,” Zinnia said. “As for the means, I don't know.”
“Did Fung say what kind of murder weapon was used?”
“No.” Zinnia gulped down the tightness in her throat. She thought of Annette's emerald-green dress, and how it turned black from her blood.
“Shame,” Margaret said.
In a hoarse tone, Zinnia said, “I wish they'd kept the office closed at least a day or two.”
“Same here.” Margaret twirled her gray forehead curl into a tight ball.
They stared at each other in solemn silence. After a moment, the corners of Margaret's eyes began tilting up.
“Uh-oh,” Zinnia said. “You're getting that look, Margaret.”
“What look?”
“The one you get right before you decide that breaking the rules is completely acceptable when you're the one doing it.”<
br />
Margaret snorted. “No, I'm not. And I don't do that.” The corners of her eyes tilted up even more.
“Whatever you're thinking about doing, don't.”
Margaret turned away to pour herself a cup of coffee. She said over her shoulder, “I suppose you have a better idea than whatever it is I may or may not be planning?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Zinnia withdrew from her pocket a slip of paper containing a spell she'd copied out of one of her books earlier that morning. She handed the paper to the other witch.
Margaret's eyes widened as she looked over the spell. “This is for contacting the other side.”
“Yes, it is.”
“But we can't do that.”
“Yes, we can. We ought not to do so, but we can.”
“Oh, Zinnia.” Margaret shook her head. “I don't know about that.”
“If we want to know whether or not it was Karl who murdered Annette last night, the most direct way to find out is to ask Annette ourselves. She already visited both of us. You, in your shower, and me, in my kitchen. Honestly, I think she'd be open to it.”
Margaret frowned.
Zinnia said, “We ought to do something. Annette was our friend. She called us the Three Wise Women, remember? She's counting on us.”
“Nope, nope, nope.” Margaret set down her coffee, leaned back against the counter, and crossed her arms. “A big fat mountain of nope!”
“We could do it tonight. This spell is very mild. All it does is summon the ghost to appear at a window or a mirror. That sounds safe enough, right? The ghost can come up to the glass, but not all the way through.”
Margaret remained unconvinced.
Zinnia said, “The book says that even a solo witch could cast this spell, if she's experienced, but it is recommended for two or more witches.” Zinnia put on a positive, winning smile. “Which is why you and I should cast it together, tonight.”
Wisteria Witches Mysteries Box Set 2 Page 69