by Morgana Best
“Are you feeling any better today?” I asked her, wondering if now was the right time to question her over the mysterious Alder Vervain.
“Back to normal, pretty much,” she said, but she didn’t look normal. She looked shaken. “What did he want?”
I answered her question with a question. “Did you know that he’s a private detective?”
Thyme nodded, and walked into the kitchen. “Of course. Small town—everyone knows everyone else’s business. Is he investigating you? Or what? He wasn’t buying cupcakes.”
“Yes, he is investigating me!” I exclaimed. “Someone’s paid him to, because they think I had something to do with the murder of Thomas Hale.”
Thyme turned after setting some mixing bowls on the counter. “He didn’t tell you who his employer was by any chance, did he?”
I pulled a face. “No. He asked me some questions.”
Thyme put down the flour and looked at me. “Does he think you had something to do with it?” She seemed concerned, but I had no idea why.
“He said he believes me.”
Thyme seemed to be thinking that over.
I pressed on. “He said he knows when someone is lying to him. He has a sixth sense about it.”
Thyme snorted rudely.
“He knew that I couldn’t bake.”
“The whole town knows you can’t bake!” Thyme exclaimed.
I chuckled. “Too true. I suppose it does look fishy that a man died in my store and then at my house, but I don’t know why anyone would be so convinced that I had something to do with it. Anyway, why do you have a problem with Alder Vervain?”
Thyme shot me a look. “Who says I have a problem with…”
I cut her off, holding up my hand. “Come on. I overheard you guys talking about him once, and you acted weird around him.”
Thyme chewed her lip. “Well, I suppose you’ll have to know sooner or later.”
I was growing impatient. “Know what?”
Thyme rubbed her temples and sighed loudly. “Do you know anything about witchcraft laws in Australia?”
“No, how would I? I didn’t know anything about witches until I moved to Bayberry Creek.”
Thyme waved one hand at me. “Oh, yes, sorry. Well, no one was ever put to death in Australia, or anything like that. No one has ever been successfully prosecuted for witchcraft in Australia, but a woman was charged with fortune telling in South Australia about sixty years ago. And a law against practicing witchcraft was repealed in the state of Victoria only as recently as 2005, as ridiculous as that sounds. Alder Vervain’s family…” She hesitated.
I was frustrated. How bad could it be? “Just spit it out, Thyme.”
She nodded. “His family is from a long line of witch hunters.”
“What?” I shrieked. “Witch hunters, like in the movies?” Images of Alder with a crossbow and vials of holy water flashed through my mind. He certainly looked the part.
“No. That was too strong a term, I suppose. Alder’s family has always opposed the repeal of witchcraft laws in Australia.”
I scratched my head. “I still can’t see the problem. What am I missing?”
“Alder’s family are firmly on a witch hunt, metaphorically and figuratively speaking,” Thyme said angrily. “Obviously, they can’t have anyone charged with witchcraft in this day and age, so they look for anything they can. They used to complain to the local council authorities about Ruprecht’s shop.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I’ve been speaking in the present tense, but Alder’s parents died some time back. They did all sorts of horrible things to Camino, Ruprecht, and my parents, too, years ago. It’s left to Alder now.”
“What’s left to him? What are you saying? What horrible things did they do?”
Thyme folded her arms across her chest. “You name it; they did it. They spread rumors, constantly complained to authorities. They even rang the cops with anonymous tips that Ruprecht and Camino were drug dealers. The tax office audited Ruprecht, Camino, and my parents time and time again. Alder’s parents really persecuted them.”
“But surely none of this happened recently?” I asked her.
Thyme shook her head. “No, but Alder’s only just come back to town. He’s been watching you, so it seems that he’s going to start up again on all of us, taking up where his parents left off. And this time, you’re in his sights, too.”
Chapter 10
Thyme and I were in my car. We had closed for the day, and Thyme wanted to turn the tables on Alder by following him. “The best defense is offense,” she had said.
I still found it hard to believe that Alder had malicious intent toward me, but then, I was naïve when it came to seeing through people. “He said he believed me,” I said once again. “He said he had a sixth sense and could tell when someone was lying. He did seem to believe me. He said he was going to suggest to his employer that they leave me alone.”
Thyme slammed on an imaginary brake with her foot when a car pulled out in front of me. Talk about a back seat driver! I wasn’t going to comment though, given her current mood. “Amelia, we’ve already been through this. I don’t think there is an employer, and I like told you over and over again, I don’t trust him.”
I was in two minds about the whole situation. “Well, he did say that he doubted his employer would listen to him.”
“See what I mean! That’s just a cover, as there is no employer. I bet he made that up!” Thyme shot me a look. “Amelia, I’m really worried about this. He’s a private detective now—just be thankful he isn’t a cop—and he’s snooping. He has his sights set on you. He’s going to cause trouble for you. Please tell me that you’ll burn protection incense when you’re home.”
I nodded. “Yes, I’m already in the habit of that now. I always burn Fiery Wall of Protection incense: Dragon’s Blood, frankincense and myrrh.”
“Good. And you filled those witch bottles like I told you and…”
I interrupted her. “Yes, and I buried them in the front yard.”
“Also good. Did you make that protection poppet, the juju doll-baby?”
I slunk down in my seat. “Err, no, sorry. My sewing is almost as bad as my baking.”
Thyme snorted with disgust. “It doesn’t have to be a work of art! Just sew some fabric into the vague shape of a person, and stuff it with protection herbs from your garden. You have plenty to choose from. You have those big tubs of rue, and then you have plenty of chamomile, lemongrass, and agrimony growing. You could use rosemary or hawthorn for its hair. And there’s wormwood. See!” She tapped her rearview mirror, where wormwood was hanging in a little bag. “We’ve already been through this. Protection is the most important thing for witches. Protection first, before everything.”
“Sorry.” I was truly remorseful. I’d been slack and really would need to up the protection. “Anyway, why are we following Alder if you think he’s not being paid to follow me?”
Thyme sighed. I could tell I was really trying her patience. This whole thing with Alder sure was making her uptight. “While I do think it’s highly unlikely that someone actually paid him to investigate you, if such a person does exist, then we need to find out who they are.”
I pointed to the small container Thyme had been holding. “Hence your whosie-whatsit.”
“Great technical term,” she said dryly. “It’s actually scrying water, which you would know if you’d been paying attention. It’s rainwater collected under the last full moon, and when it’s in this black bowl, I can see images. That is, if I have the chance to concentrate,” she added pointedly.
“Understood. I’ll be quiet now.”
“I can’t believe that’s working,” was the next thing I said, ten or so minutes later.
Thyme laughed. “After all you’ve seen since you arrived at Bayberry Creek, you’re really surprised? Turn right at the stop sign.”
I shook my head. “I guess not.”
“Okay, I think it’s that motel there.”
I parked out on the road, under a spreading lemon magnolia tree. “Look at those pretty yellow flowers,” I said.
“Focus, Amelia, focus. He’s here somewhere,” Thyme said. “I think it’s one of the last rooms.”
I was nervous. “I don’t want him to see us, and if he really has a sixth sense, or is psychic or whatever, he’ll know we’re here.”
“Well, I don’t want to be caught snooping around, either,” Thyme said. “The last person I need to make mad is some crazy witch hunter. Still, we have to find out if there’s any truth to his claim that someone hired him, and this is probably the only way we’ll find out.”
Thyme sat in silence for a moment, staring at her scrying water, while I fidgeted in my seat. Finally, she spoke. “Yes, he’s in the very end room, and I’m pretty sure there’s a man in there, too.”
“Can you tell if he’s the one who hired him to follow me?” I asked.
Thyme shook her head. “I have no idea. I assume he’d have several clients. Anyway, I’ll find out who the man is.”
“You can do that?” I asked, impressed.
She chuckled. “Not with my scrying water. I’ll ask Gloria, you know, the waitress at the north café.”
“How would she know?”
“Well, her uncle runs the motel, and Gloria’s cousin, Stephanie, is the receptionist there.”
I nodded. I should have known. Most people in small country towns were related to each other. At least there was always a network that could be counted on to supply plenty of information, whether real or imagined, about people’s personal lives.
“There,” Thyme said loudly, startling me. “He’s on the move.”
“On the move? When did you join the army?” I teased her as I turned the key in her ignition and slid down in my seat.
Sure enough, Alder Vervain was heading across the motel parking lot to his car. He was carrying a folder of some sort. He didn’t look around, which suited me just fine. The motel parking lot was full, and my car was sandwiched between others on the road, so I hoped we had escaped his notice. Still, I couldn’t shake off the uncanny feeling that he knew only too well that I was there.
Alder climbed behind the wheel. He pulled out of his space and headed for the exit.
“Follow him, but stay back,” Thyme said urgently. “Don’t tip him off.”
I pulled out a reasonable distance behind Alder’s car.
“I think he’s heading for his house,” Thyme said with obvious disappointment, after Alder had led us a winding ride over back roads. “Maybe we should just go back.”
“I don’t know,” I said. Alder’s car had disappeared around a sharp bend. When I drove around the curve, Alder’s car was nowhere to be seen, and the road was straight for miles. I slammed on the brakes, and swerved to a stop.
“What the heck?” Thyme exclaimed.
“Where could he have gone?” I was really beginning to think Alder had mystical powers.
“I don’t know, but just keep driving,” Thyme said.
I did as she asked. Just up ahead was another road to the left. It was hidden by wattle trees until I was almost upon it. I turned onto it. It was paved but not as well as the main road, and my car bounced this way and that. Thyme lost some of her scrying water in the process. This road climbed rather steeply, going directly up the hill instead of winding around it. The road was narrow, so much so that if another car came, I would have to pull off to the side to allow it to pass. I fervently hoped that Alder didn’t come back down the hill past us. We’d be sitting ducks.
For once, luck was on my side, because before long the road widened and the ground leveled out. Soon I saw a dirt lane down to a pretty little white house that was surrounded by bougainvillea and magnolia trees in full bloom.
“Oh gosh, how silly of me,” Thyme said. “There’s his car. This must be where he’s living now. He sold his parents’ farm after they died.”
I started to pull off the road, but Thyme stopped me.
“Keep going,” she said. “Don’t pull over. There’s a road to the right that will take us back to town.”
“Shouldn’t we watch him?” I asked.
“No,” Thyme said firmly, shaking her head. “It’s one thing to follow him around town to find out if he has a client interested in you, but it’s another thing entirely to go to his own home. A man has been murdered, after all. Do you remember the last time?”
I swerved to miss a bush turkey that had run out on the road, and then glanced at Thyme. She looked like an angry mother or a stern schoolmistress. I hoped it was because she had just lost some more scrying water and wasn’t angry with me for wanting to sit outside Alder’s house.
“You almost got hurt when we tried to solve Brant McCallum’s murder!” she said.
I nodded. “Yes, but surely you don’t think Alder Vervain had anything to do with Thomas Hale’s murder?”
“Someone murdered him,” Thyme said. “And it was likely someone in this town. If we’re going to do help Dianne, we have to be careful.”
The mood for rest of the ride home was somewhat contemplative and somber. It wasn’t until I was home that I saw that Thyme had left the small bowl of scrying water on the floor of my car. I took it inside with me and put it on the coffee table in the living room. I figured the cats wouldn’t drink it, and just as well, as who knew what magical things would happen to them if they drank moon-enchanted scrying water?
After a quick dinner of chocolate ice cream and wine, I showered and dressed for bed. I wondered whether I should follow Thyme’s instructions and smudge my bedroom with white sage, but then decided against it. I was way too tired for that. I was asleep almost as soon as I hit the sheets.
Later I awoke, gasping from a nightmare. I lay in bed for a moment, thinking about the bad dream. Someone had been chasing me down a long hallway that had no doors or windows. There had been footsteps behind me, and they had been getting closer.
I jumped out of bed, scattering the cats, and turned on the light. I didn’t think I’d be able to go straight back to sleep, so I got a glass of water and went into the living room. I was going to look for something to watch on cable, not a horror movie of course. Willow and Hawthorn were already on the sofa, glaring at me. I reached for the remote, but then my eyes fell on the container of scrying water on the coffee table.
As I looked at it, I saw shapes forming. I blinked, at first thinking I was imagining things. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. Sure enough, I could clearly see a shadowy figure in the water. I gasped and looked more closely.
Thyme had told me that scrying came more easily to some than to others. I had assumed it wouldn’t come easily to me. Yet as I peered into the depths of the dark water, I clearly saw a shadowy figure in front of my house, moving stealthily away. The sight chilled me to the bone. At the moment, I knew full well that someone had been creeping along the street outside my house in the middle of the night. And whoever it was, was filled with malicious intent toward me.
Chapter 11
“Don’t think so hard about it.” Thyme patted my shoulder as we made our way down the sidewalk. “You’re so stressed that you’re making my hair turn white!”
I shot her an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
“I’m kidding!” Thyme said with exasperation. “Come on. I know I said to be careful, but you’re taking it too far. He’s not a mass murderer, just a low-rate private detective. He’s so great at his job that he made it obvious he was investigating you. And we don’t even know yet if someone really has paid him to follow you. Even if that’s true, it could just be some loser ex who can’t let go.”
A vivid image of my boyfriend came to mind. I remembered his scathing glares of disgust over my Nachos of Doom. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“I guess a paid stalker is hard to brush off as no big deal.” It was Thyme’s turn to give me an apologetic look as she shifted the basket of cream stuffed lemon cake from one arm to the other
. “Sorry, Mint is better at the reassuring-people-through-a-crisis thing than I am. But if you ever want to turn anyone prematurely bald, let me know.”
“There’s a spell for that?” I gasped as soon as I said the words, and looked around for eavesdroppers. Luckily, no one was staring at me like I was a crazy person.
Thyme, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed. After a quick glance around, she turned her attention back to me. “Yes, there are spells for everything. And even in a mundane way, there are herbs and oils you could put together to make it happen. But I’ve found that sneaking hair removal cream into their shampoo bottle tends to work faster.”
I laughed. I thought for a moment that Thyme was just joking. She seemed too calm and matter of fact about it.
“Hey, it works!” Thyme waved her free hand in the air. “I have a terrible dating record. I think I have a primal need for high blood pressure and anxiety. I always end up with both a few weeks into a relationship. Payback is great stress relief—non-magical payback, that is.”
“You seriously don’t put Nair in their shampoo?” I didn’t know whether I was amused, appalled, or just plain envious. Truth be told, I was probably envious. If I had tried to pull something like that, I bet I’d be sent to jail and I’d end up being bunked with an inmate with multiple personalities, all three of which would hate me. That would be just how my luck would roll in the revenge department.
“No I’m kidding.” Thyme’s mouth quirked into a grin and she ducked as I swiped at her. “I fantasize about what I’d like to do to them. Usually it’s little things like locking their keys in the car or hiding their wallet in the back of their freezer. The only thing I ever did, was taking an industrial strength magnet to my last boyfriend’s memory cards.”
“Memory cards?’
Thyme nodded. “On his games. A strong enough magnet can ruin a saved game. The way he played, half his life was probably on those things.”
“Thyme!”
Thyme stopped walking and put her free hand on her hip. “I refuse to feel sorry for a man who throws a tantrum when a kid out-games him. He pawned my things to buy a two hundred dollar game upgrade. I don’t have anything against gamers as such, but if you ever date one, make sure he’s not a kleptomaniac with a Peter-Pan complex.”