Witch You Well

by Colleen Cross

  "I go where the facts take me. At the moment they lead to Pearl. At least until she answers my questions."

  Sheriff Gates' face remained expressionless, so I couldn't tell whether he was serious or not. I thought back to Aunt Pearl's earlier comment about the sheriff being corrupt. She never gave a reason, but what if there was some basis in truth? If he wanted to solve the case quickly he could easily railroad my aunt. We didn't exactly attract the most upstanding police candidates around, so maybe that was what was wrong with him. Because there was always something wrong with anyone who moved to Westwick Corners. They were either hiding something in their past or hiding from someone.

  I pointed to Aunt Pearl's wand. "That pointy tip isn't sharp enough to draw blood, let alone kill anyone. It looks harmless enough to me." Exactly the opposite was true, magic-wise. In the wrong hands, that wand was deadly dangerous. But the sheriff didn't know we were witches and I wasn't about to tell him.

  As I stared at the wand I had an epiphany. Aunt Pearl couldn't have possibly killed Sebastien Plant. I flashed back to a few months ago when she had cut her finger and fainted. My tough-as-nails aunt was deathly afraid of blood.

  I was certain of one thing. I didn't know how or why, but someone else was responsible for the blood on Aunt Pearl's wand.

  Come hell or high water, I would track them down.

  CHAPTER 5

  I headed into the kitchen, where Mom watched aghast as Aunt Pearl busily tossed a salad—literally—for tonight's dinner. At least she was using her magic constructively for once, though I was surprised at the mess she had made in just a few minutes.

  I caught a head of Romaine mid-air and placed it on the counter. "We need to talk."

  "I'm busy, Cen. It will have to wait." She snapped her fingers and julienned a tray of carrots.

  "Missing something?" I asked.

  "Hmmm, carrots, tomatoes, cucumbers...no, I don't think so."

  "I meant your wand. Why did you leave it at the gazebo?" Considering that wand never left her side, she seemed awfully nonchalant about it.

  "I haven't got time to talk right now. We've got to get dinner ready for the guests." Aunt Pearl stood at the middle island in our large commercial kitchen. The once-gleaming stainless steel was covered in congealed drips and vegetable peelings. The kitchen was the only part of the Inn that had been professionally renovated. We had invested thousands and it was Mom’s pride and joy. Right now though, it was a royal mess.

  Mom's spotless kitchen had morphed into an epicurean wasteland. The counter was stacked with dishes and dirty pots filled the sink. A burnt smell permeated the humid air. That was the trouble with magic. Disaster took only minutes to create. Either Aunt Pearl's magic had gone haywire, or she had found an outlet to vent.

  "A few minutes ago you wanted all the guests gone," I said.

  "Well, they're here now. We have to feed them." Aunt Pearl wiped sweat from her forehead with a flour-dusted forearm.

  Mom stepped forward and frowned. "I already had everything prepared, Pearl. You're just making a mess in here."

  "I didn't think we had enough food, so I made more." My aunt pouted like a scolded child.

  I nodded to Mom. "You take care of the food and I'll handle Aunt Pearl."

  "No one's 'handling' me, Cendrine. Especially not you."

  "Listen to me, Aunt Pearl. Sebastien Plant was just murdered and your wand was lying on his chest. How did it get there?"

  Aunt Pearl's mouth dropped open. "So that's where my wand went."

  "Don’t play dumb with me. You saw it in the gazebo just as I did. Why did you leave it there?"

  "I didn't! Someone stole it." She threw her arms up in the air. "I can't pick up something at a crime scene and get my fingerprints all over it. I could be framed!"

  "But it's your wand. It already had your fingerprints on it."

  "I’m not going to stand here and listen to your accusations." Aunt Pearl tore off her apron and threw it in the air. It landed on the grill and began to smoke just as she turned and stomped towards the door.

  I grabbed the apron off the grill and threw it on the floor. I stomped out the embers before running after my aunt. "Wait—Aunt Pearl! No one is accusing you of anything. We just need to know what really happened so we don't expose ourselves." I hoped she wouldn’t make up one of her far-fetched stories. I just wanted the truth. Why couldn't she answer the question?

  "Now, Cen. I am a lot of things, but I am not an exhibitionist."

  I frowned. "You know what I mean. People can't find out we're witches, especially not in the midst of a murder investigation."

  "I just don't see how my wand has anything at all to do with that. I'm not a killer." She sniffled and blinked away imaginary tears.

  "We know that, Pearl," Mom said. "But the investigation’s about to get sidetracked if we don’t set the sheriff straight. The more time he spends looking at you, the less time he has to find the real killer. In the meantime a murderer is loose. The sooner the killer is caught, the better for all of us."

  That seemed to appease Aunt Pearl. "Sheriff Gates definitely has it in for me. I don't want to be framed."

  Our town’s small size was a stroke of luck, I realized. The sheriff was on his own, unable to separate us for questioning. We had an opportunity to get our stories straight before the Shady Creek reinforcements arrived. It sounded criminal, but it was vital to keep our magic under wraps.

  "Then help us," Mom pleaded. "Tell us everything you know—what you’re going to tell Sheriff Gates."

  "There's not much to tell, other than how we found him in the gazebo." Aunt Pearl met my gaze and nodded towards Mom. "Ruby and I walked over there together just a few minutes before you arrived, Cen. I already told the sheriff that."

  I hadn’t even noticed her talking with the sheriff, but I had probably been too preoccupied to notice. "Did he ask you anything else?"

  Aunt Pearl shook her head. "He said he might have more questions later on. Some sheriff. He didn't even ask for my DNA."

  "Thank goodness," Mom said. "I sure hope he's got a lead. Who would dare to kill the best thing for tourism this town has ever seen?"

  I was pretty sure the sheriff hadn't ruled out any suspects yet. Not even silver-haired witches.

  Aunt Pearl cleared her throat. "I can't imagine anyone doing that."

  I ran through a list in my mind of local troublemakers. We didn't have much crime in our small town, and certainly no violent criminals. All the evidence pointed right back at the person standing next to me. Aunt Pearl was the number one town troublemaker. She was capable of a lot of things, but murder wasn't one of them.

  My aunt seemed to guess what I was thinking. "Certainly not little ol' me. Though I must admit that I can't think of a better way to permanently deter visitors than killing them."

  "Pearl!" Mom shook her head. "Don't talk like that. All we need is for someone to overhear and misinterpret you."

  "Why would anyone think I wanted to kill him? I don't even know the guy."

  "People jump to conclusions sometimes." Mom shrugged. "As long as you have an alibi, you have nothing to worry about. Someone can vouch for your whereabouts, right?"

  I turned to Mom. "Wasn't Aunt Pearl with you?"

  Mom's voice broke. "I think we'd better let Pearl speak for herself."

  That spelled trouble. Mom never let Pearl speak for herself if she could help it.

  "I've got to go." Aunt Pearl turned and left through the back door before either Mom or I could say another word.

  Mom sighed. "She's not herself, Cen. I'm afraid of what she'll do next. Once she's got an idea, there's no stopping her."

  Aunt Pearl's anti-tourism crusade scared me too. Either she had taken things way too far, or someone had framed her. But who would do such a thing?

  CHAPTER 6

  Aunt Pearl returned as quickly as she had left, but provided no explanation for her sudden departure. She watched in silence as I cleaned up the lettuce debris and Mo
m transferred the tossed salad into large glass serving bowls. Thanks to Aunt Pearl, we had enough greens to feed a rabbit farm for a year.

  "I'm heading upstairs to clean." Aunt Pearl turned on her heels and headed for the door.

  “Now?” Mom stared after her.

  Mom and I exchanged worried glances.

  Aunt Pearl ignored Mom and slammed the door behind her

  My spidey senses tingled at the thought of Aunt Pearl going upstairs alone, so I followed her out of the kitchen, keeping far enough back so she remained unaware of my presence. She headed up the large oak staircase towards the second and third floor guest rooms.

  I waited until she reached the second floor landing before ascending the stairs. I winced as the stairs creaked, but Aunt Pearl appeared not to notice. I reached the second floor and followed a safe distance behind her down the hallway. She stopped at Tonya Plant's room at the end of the hall and pulled a giant key ring from her pocket.

  Aunt Pearl's housekeeping cart was already parked in the hallway outside the room. I doubted her plans included any sort of cleaning. I had to stop her before she got into more trouble.

  "Aunt Pearl—what are you doing?" My whisper sounded more like a rasp.

  "Cleaning Tonya's room, of course." She turned to face me. "By the way, you're a lousy sleuth. I knew you were following me the whole time."

  I ignored the insult. "Why are you cleaning the Plants' room? They just got here." And poor Sebstien Plant had already checked out.

  Aunt Pearl shook her head. "No, I checked them in early this morning."

  My mouth dropped open. "Why didn't you mention that to the sheriff? You never corrected Mom when she said they hadn't arrived yet."

  She shrugged. "It's no big deal. I just didn’t want Ruby to look stupid in front of the sheriff."

  "It's a huge deal. Since when do you worry about other people's feelings?" She was lying and I knew it. "You're covering up for yourself."

  "Okay, maybe a little. I forgot to fill in all the check-in paperwork and I didn't want Ruby mad at me. The Plants arrived around one a.m. Sebastien was really drunk and could barely stand, so I got them a room quick. I checked them in myself." Aunt Pearl’s key ring jangled as she unlocked Tonya Plant's door. She pulled a pair of latex gloves from her housekeeping cart and snapped the wrists as she put them on.

  "You should have said something. Had the sheriff known, I'm sure he would have inspected this room. It's a potential crime scene. Just stay here and I'll go get him."

  "Oh relax, Cendrine. Sheriff Gates hasn't called it a crime scene yet, and he never will unless we help him find the evidence. He’ll never figure it out on his own, which means he'll never check this room in time. It's up to us." She tossed me a pair of gloves. "Put these on. We haven't got all day."

  "No, wait." It scared me half to death to think of Aunt Pearl and a crime scene in the same sentence. There was no telling what would go wrong. "This is a mistake. You've got to stop taking matters into your own hands like this."

  "Stop your whining and get to work. You can empty the garbage."

  Aunt Pearl's vice-like grip closed on my bicep and pulled me inside the room. I yelped in pain but did as I was told. I had no choice. The voices of approaching guests echoed in the hall. They couldn't hear us argue.

  "This is a bad idea." I slipped on my gloves and glanced around the room. It seemed undisturbed except for the unmade bed, which looked barely slept in. The couple's luggage sat unopened in the closet. A half-full glass of lemon-lime soda, car keys, and a wallet sat on the nightstand and an empty Walmart bag rested on the desk. Other than that, the room was tidy.

  Nothing in the room indicated the demise of one of its occupants. The only strange thing was the full trash can, which seemed odd given the Plants' recent arrival. I lifted the trash can and emptied it into a large black garbage bag. Aside from tissues, the trash can contents included a half-empty Gatorade bottle and a one-gallon plastic container. I tied the bag in a knot, deciding to keep the bag separate from the other rubbish just in case the sheriff wanted to look at it later.

  Aunt Pearl beckoned me over. "Look what I found." She pointed at the desk, speechless.

  I walked around the bed to see what she was staring at and almost had a heart attack.

  My uneasiness at being inside Tonya Plant's room vanished once I saw the development plans and feasibility study laid out on the desk. I recognized the Centralex Development logo. Centralex was the biggest commercial property developer in the Pacific Northwest. Beside the plans were architectural renderings of a mega resort, hotel, and conference center. The neat block printing read Westwick Resort and left no doubt where the intended location was.

  The aerial photographs and diagrams were clearly of our property. The architectural rendering showed a twenty-storey building with pools, a golf course, and gardens. The Westwick Corners Inn was nowhere in sight.

  "Believe me now?"

  I nodded, numb from shock. Someone had taken considerable time and expense to develop plans that seemed to include razing our historic inn to the ground. They were so confident about their project that they had hired architects and planners that must have cost tens of thousands of dollars, yet they hadn't even talked to us, the property owners. It seemed a risky bet. It was also very underhanded of the Plants to stay at our property at the very moment they planned to swindle us out of it.

  Now I really regretted inviting them. The late Sebastien Plant now appeared more foe than friend. I wondered how quickly he planned to put his plan into action. His murder took on a whole new dimension now that his real reason for coming to Westwick Corners became clear. I shivered at the thought that we were connected, albeit tenuously, to his final moments on earth.

  "Progress is a double-edged sword," Aunt Pearl said. "Sometimes it's better to be invisible and ignored.”

  It was the first time today we'd actually agreed on something. "Let's go find the sheriff," I said.

  A few weeks ago we couldn't even find paying guests. Now our guests were ready to pull our business out from under us. Did they want it bad enough to kill for it?

  CHAPTER 7

  Sheriff Gates turned Tonya's room over to the crime scene techs for processing, which didn't go over well with Tonya. She was furious that she couldn't return to her room. The inn was fully booked, so we couldn't even offer her another room for the few hours it took investigators to check it out. Her only option was to cool her heels in the dining room.

  I had surrendered the garbage bag from Tonya’s room to the sheriff, who handed it over to the crime scene techs to process.

  I wished I had ignored Aunt Pearl's orders and called the sheriff immediately. Gloved hands or not, the things we had touched in the Plants' room had potentially tainted them as evidence.

  At least the Centralex plans were no longer a secret. Tonya couldn't pretend to be simply enjoying our hospitality while plotting to raze the Inn. Her deceit didn’t seem to bother her. Apparently nothing did.

  She sat in the dining room with an oversized slab of chocolate cake and a glass of red wine. She seemed to be enjoying herself a little too much considering her husband's recent demise.

  The sheriff promised Tonya that she would have her room back shortly after dinner, and it couldn't be soon enough for me. At least I wouldn't have to face her and feign politeness. The sooner she was gone the better, as far as I was concerned.

  The sheriff temporarily repurposed a small room off the Inn’s front parlor as a private interview room. We had designed the front parlor as a casual lounge-type area for guests to relax, but I was anything but chill as I awaited my turn for questioning.

  I was eager to ask the sheriff about the development plans in Tonya's room and whether they factored in to the murder or not. Maybe Tonya had already mentioned their real reason for coming to Westwick Corners, but I somehow doubted that. She didn’t seem the type to volunteer information.

  My chair by the window gave me a good vantage point of our
guests' comings and goings. Most of the guests were relaxing before dinner, and a few had even drifted over to The Witching Post, our bar in a separate building, for pre-dinner drinks. Luckily the bar was located on the opposite side of the Inn, so the gazebo and gardens were out of sight. I just hoped the police would confine their activities to the garden area.

  My window seat also allowed me to quickly run outside and redirect any guests headed towards the gardens and gazebo. Under no circumstances could they discover that a murder had taken place just steps from where they were staying.

  It had only been hours since our morbid discovery in the gazebo, but it seemed like an eternity. The sheriff had guarded the crime scene—or scenes—since it now included Tonya's room—until the arrival of the Shady Creek crime scene investigators. Now that he had debriefed them he focused on witness interviews. That included me, of course, and Mom and Aunt Pearl.

  Sheriff Gates had interviewed Mom first, so she was freed up to attend to dinner for the guests. Next came Aunt Pearl. I was both surprised and thankful to see that my aunt’s interview lasted all of five minutes.

  He had then disappeared to make a quick call, which I assumed was to the on-scene investigators. I hadn't been able to talk with either Aunt Pearl or Mom after their interviews. I just hoped that Aunt Pearl hadn't said anything outrageous or incriminating.

  I smiled as he walked over and sat down across from me. "I hope this can be cleared up quickly."

  "We'll do our best."

  “Can we stay out here? I want to keep an eye on the guests.”

  He nodded.

  I gazed out the front window and was alarmed to see the Shady Creek investigators' white van now parked close to the Inn's front entrance. The Shady Creek Police emblem was plainly visible. So was the black lettering underneath that read Forensics. The coroner’s van, also white, was parked beside it.

  What would I say if the guests noticed and asked questions? The last thing we needed was a scene. At least there were no media onsite, mostly because my newspaper was the only news media in town. Plant’s death was big enough to eventually attract the attention of the Shady Creek reporters, but I hoped nightfall and the start of the weekend would delay any news coverage at least until tomorrow when we might have more answers.