Dizzy Spells

by Morgana Best

  I was shocked. “He actually pawned your things for a game?”

  “Yes, my sapphire earrings and a gold fob chain that my grandmother had given me. I did get them back in the end. Most do make it out unscathed,” Thyme assured me. “In real life, not in my mind.”

  We were still giggling over Thyme’s ideas for revenge tactics when we arrived at Glinda’s. Ruprecht’s store was as warm and welcoming as ever. Books were shelved from top to bottom, ancient globes hung from the ceiling, and glass cabinets displayed all manner of mystical items, from crystal balls to exotic incense.

  I could spend all day in Glinda’s and still not see everything there was to see. It was a combination of a mystic library, a museum, and a set from a Harry Potter movie.

  Camino waved us toward the back room. “Looks like someone is feeling better!”

  Thyme grinned. “I’ve been giving Amelia some relationship advice on the way.”

  “Goddess help us!” Camino exclaimed with a shake of her head, and then glanced over at me. “Is that to say you have someone on your mind?”

  “No!” I said quickly, feeling my face color at the unexpected question.

  “The handsome firefighter perhaps?”

  “No,” I said again, this time truthfully. It was Alder Vervain who had come to mind, rather than Craig. I somehow couldn’t bring myself to share Thyme’s opinion of Alder. “Thyme was just distracting me from, well, everything.”

  “She has a talent for that!” Mint called from the back.

  Thyme snorted rudely as she handed over the basket. “Just so you know, ignore whatever Mint’s been saying about me! She’s my accomplice!”

  Camino laughed softly and nodded. “I’d not doubt it for a minute.”

  Mint peeked around the corner with a stack of small white ceramic plates in hand. “What makes you say that?”

  “Don’t try to play the angel, Mint.” Camino waved a knobby finger at both Thyme and Mint. “I helped change your diapers. I likely know you two better than you know yourselves.”

  As the women squirmed, Camino turned her attention to me. “These two were always causing all manner of mischief when they were younger. Poor Ruprecht, trying to cope with two little bulls in his antique shop.”

  “We weren’t that bad!” Mint insisted, her face coloring.

  Thyme grinned. “Yes we were,” she said with a chuckle.

  “One time when Mint was about seven, she got it in her head that she was going to be a beautician when she was older. Next thing I know, I found my poor cat, Calliope, in the kitchen sink, being dyed pink. Calliope never let Mint and Thyme near her for the rest of her days.”

  “Camino!” Mint was red faced as she set out the plates. “You promised not to share that silly story with guests anymore.”

  “Amelia isn’t a guest. She’s practically family,” Camino sniffed, unaffected by Mint’s protests.

  Ruprecht shuffled out from hiding, one of his cats perched contently on his shoulder, in the same way a parrot would sit on a pirate’s shoulder. “And there was also your first, or should I say, only sleepover.”

  I dragged my eyes away from the cat on his shoulder and asked, “What happened?”

  “We decided to paint,” Thyme said simply. “We painted a Ming Vase, a Victorian statue, and a jade dragon. We were terrors. It wasn’t until high school that Mint decided her life’s goal was to be boring.”

  “I am not boring!” Mint protested. “Last week I went line dancing.”

  “Line dancing?” I said without thinking.

  “I had a really nice time,” Mint said defensively as she busied herself cutting the cake.

  “Dancing?” Thyme appeared to be dubious at the claim.

  “It was a nice time. I even talked with a man from out of town.”

  I noticed Ruprecht and Camino exchanging a look of surprise. This was apparently news to them.

  “While dancing?”

  “No, Thyme! I didn’t dance. Happy?” Mint huffed and scratched her arm. “I break out in hives when I’m totally surrounded. Sue me!”

  I was relieved that none of my embarrassing childhood stories would ever come to light. They would never let me live them down.

  “I apologize, Amelia.” Ruprecht reached out to pat my hand. “We’re getting away from ourselves. The whole point of the evening was to help you with your problem. Is there anything we can do?”

  Suddenly, the reality of the whole thing came crashing back—the body on the porch, and Alder Vervain’s claim that someone had hired him to investigate my possible involvement in the matter.

  I plastered what I hoped was a cheerful and reassuring look on my face. “Oh what, what can I do? Hopefully, the police will solve the murder soon, and find out what the man was doing at my house.”

  No one seemed convinced. Thankfully, they didn’t try to press the matter but instead helped themselves to the lemon cake. It was Thyme’s creation of course. Amelia was barely able to make lemonade unsupervised, let alone a cake.

  Thyme seemed appeased at the explanation. “How are you sleeping? Would you like me to stay over tonight, and Mint too?”

  “No!” Camino and Ruprecht exclaimed in unison. The harmony of their tone and expression hinted that they had years of experience shutting down sleepovers after the Ming Vase incident.

  I shook my head. “Thanks, but I’m okay.”

  “The house did feel a little extra temperamental the last time I was there,” Mint said. “I imagine it wasn’t too happy having someone die on its porch.”

  “Trust me, I feel the same way.”

  “Now to business,” Ruprecht said. “Thyme tells me she’s filled you in about Alder Vervain.”

  “Even his name is a mockery!” Camino snapped.

  I was puzzled. “What do you mean? He can’t help his name.”

  Ruprecht shook his head. “To the contrary, my dear, that is not his birth name. He legally changed it some years ago. He was born as Tommy Hopkins.”

  I nearly choked on my lemon cake. “Tommy Hopkins? He doesn’t look like a Tommy Hopkins at all. Surely it doesn’t matter that he changed his name, though?”

  “It’s the context, Amelia,” Camino said stiffly. “Those of us who are hereditary kitchen witches in this town have names of herbs that are important to magical practices. Alder is from a long line of people strenuously opposed to witches, and so he changed his name to herbs.”

  I was beginning to catch on. “So you think he changed his name to a kitchen witch name to mock you?”

  “Yes!” everyone exclaimed in unison.

  “Alder is a strongly protective herb,” Camino explained. “Both its roots and leaves offer powerful protection from enemies. It undoes jinxes, too.”

  “And vervain?”

  “You probably know it as verbena,” Camino said.

  I didn’t, but I nodded anyway. Clearly I had a long way to go in my witch education.

  “Vervain is also used against evil and to break a jinx. It was one of nine herbs traditionally used in European witchcraft as a protection against witches.”

  “That’s right, Camino,” Ruprecht said. “So, Amelia, you can see that Alder Vervain’s name is ironic. He chose to name himself after two herbs that offer protection, and one of those herbs offers protection specifically against witches.”

  I suppose I could see their point, but Alder didn’t strike me as someone who would do such a thing. Still, I was a new witch and I had to defer to their judgment. “Okay, so I know mint is used to draw and protect money, and break curses, too. Thyme is used in the same way, to protect and attract money.”

  Camino nodded. “Well done. Thyme also stops nightmares, if it’s burned before you go to bed.”

  I wish I’d known that earlier, I thought. Aloud I said, “But what sort of herb is camino? I’ve never heard of it before.”

  Thyme chimed in. “It’s one of the most important herbs there is. Abre camino, also known as Road Opener.”

 
“Its botanical name is Eupatorium villosum,” Ruprecht said. “Well, these days it’s known as Koanophyllon villosum. I’ll go and get the mother bottle of Road Opener oil. Wait here.”

  He soon returned with a large bottle. It was clear. The liquid inside was murky brown and appeared to have thick stalks floating in it. “It’s all but impossible to buy the plant in Australia,” Ruprecht said. “I managed to buy some seeds from overseas years ago, and I grow several plants in my greenhouse.”

  “The seeds went through customs all right?” I asked with surprise.

  “Yes, it’s Road Opener after all,” Ruprecht said with a chuckle. “It opens the way, removes obstacles, stuff like that.”

  “What about your name?” I asked. “What kind of herb is a ruprecht?”

  Everyone dissolved into helpless peals of laughter, while my face flushed red.

  Ruprecht was the first to regain his composure. “Ruprecht isn’t a herb, but my middle name is Celery.”

  I did my best not to laugh. “Celery?” I asked, wondering if I had heard correctly. “The stuff you eat in salads?”

  Ruprecht nodded solemnly. “Celery increases psychic abilities and helps people have prophetic dreams. You can put the seeds under your pillow, or burn them on charcoal.”

  “Oh,” was all I could manage.

  “At any rate,” Ruprecht continued, “I pulled a tarot card just before you all came here today. It was The Fool, reversed.”

  Everyone looked at each other. Even I knew that meant injustice, poor choices, even madness. Were they right about Alder Vervain?

  Chapter 12

  I unlocked the front door and flipped over the sign to ‘Open’, despite the fact it was half an hour before opening time. With everything that had been going on, all I wanted was one day of peace and normalcy. Surely that was not too much to ask?

  I walked back over to the front counter and began looking through the previous and current orders. I couldn’t cook, but I could make sure that the business side of things was in order. That much I could do. I soon became engrossed in analyzing the numbers. In fact, I was so engrossed, that I barely noticed when the door opened and what I assumed was my first customer for the day walked in.

  However, it was the two detectives. “We would like you to assist us in our investigation,” Detective Harrison said formally.

  My chest tightened as I struggled to make sense of what was going on. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I understand. I don’t know anything at all. I just discovered the body.”

  “That is not something we can discuss here,” Detective Sassafras said. “Would you be willing to accompany us back to the station?”

  “Am I in trouble? Should I call a friend so someone knows where I am?”

  Harrison shook his head. “That won’t be necessary, Miss Spelled. We just want you to help us with our inquiries.”

  Clearly I had no option but to go with them. I nodded in defeat. “I just need to leave a note for my employee,” I said. I scrawled a note, and then took it to the kitchen where Thyme was sure to see it. I grabbed my handbag and keys and then followed the officers out of the store, flipping the sign back over and locking up before I left.

  “The station isn’t far from here, so you can ride with us,” Sassafras said.

  I wasn’t sure how to respond. It wasn’t an order, although it didn’t sound too much like a request. I wasn’t being arrested, but it sure felt that way. “Okay,” I said. As soon as I set foot on the street, the rain came down harder. Clearly this wasn’t my day. People on the street stopped to stare when they saw me with the two men, who looked even more like detectives than the ones on TV. I felt awful.

  The other cop opened the door for me to get in. I crawled into the back of the vehicle and the door slammed shut behind me.

  “Okay then, let’s get this over with so you can get back to your shop,” Detective Harrison said, as soon as we arrived.

  I followed them into the police station, where everyone in the waiting room turned to stare at me. I was soaked and my shoes squelched with every step. I felt I would just die of embarrassment.

  Detective Sassafras pointed toward the end of a long corridor. “The interview room is right at the end of this hall.” He walked ahead, leaving me to walk with Harrison.

  Harrison turned to me. “Just tell the truth.”

  “I don’t have anything to hide!” I said in alarm.

  “Just tell us the truth and you’ll have nothing to fear,” he said.

  When we got to the room, Harrison waved me inside. “Take a seat. We’ll be right in to talk to you.” He closed the door behind him.

  I looked around the room. Should I have asked for a lawyer? Why wasn’t there a one-way mirror on the wall like on TV shows? Was that camera on the wall recording me sitting there? Were they out there watching me to see what I would do? Did they really think I had something to do with Thomas Hale’s murder?

  I shook my head. This was no time to let my imagination run away with me. I looked instead at the worn furniture. The wooden-topped table looked ancient, as did the wooden chairs. Black stuff was peeling off the metal legs. Surely they could afford something better than this. The walls were brick and painted in the most horrible shade of pale green I had ever seen.

  I debated whether to take off my rain-filled shoes and empty them out on the floor, but finally decided not to. If they were in fact watching me, it might make them mad.

  Finally, the door swung open. Harrison walked in, holding a thin folder that he threw on the table. He was followed by Sassafras, who said nothing as he took a seat opposite me. Both men looked solemn.

  Harrison remained standing. He opened the file and jabbed his finger on the front page. “This is your statement,” he said sternly. “You told us that you had never met Thomas Hale. In fact, you alleged that you had never seen him. Is that correct?”

  “Yes,” I said, wondering what was going on.

  Harrison sat down, and then bodily dragged his chair across to the table in one motion. It made a horrible scraping sound, and at that moment, one of the florescent light panels started to flicker in a most irritating manner.

  Harrison flipped over a page or two, pulled out some large photos, and skimmed them across the table in front of me.

  At first glance, I wasn’t quite sure what I was seeing. To my horror, they were photos of me with the victim. “What’s going on?”

  The cop leaned closer and separated the photos. He laid them out individually, and pointed at each one as he kept his eyes locked on mine. “Can you explain to us how we have several photos of you with Thomas Hale, a man you claimed never to have met?” His tone was accusatory.

  I swallowed the large lump in my throat. My hands trembled, and I sat there at a loss for words. “That’s not me,” I said after an interval. I held it up to my face to get a better look. “I know it looks like me, but it isn’t,” I said in a small voice. “It can’t be.”

  Harrison scratched his chin, and then leaned back in his chair. “So you’re claiming you have a look-alike are, you?” he said sarcastically. “A doppelganger?”

  I stared at the photos. “Okay, it does look like me, but the photographs must have been faked or something.”

  “Faked?” the second cop chimed in. He shook his head, clearly not believing a word I said. “They look pretty convincing to me.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of Photoshop?” I shot back.

  Harrison glared at me. “So, now you’re saying someone is framing you for this? First, a body shows up at your front door and you claim he’s a complete stranger. Secondly, we receive photos in the mail that show you and the victim together. So why don’t you tell us why someone would go through all that trouble?”

  I sighed. They didn’t believe me at all, and part of me didn’t blame them. I probably wouldn’t believe my story either if I were one of them. “I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve never met that man before in my life. My only explanation is that someone�
��s trying to frame me. I bet those photos were sent to you anonymously.”

  The two cops exchanged a look, and then Harrison handed the file to Sassafras. He stood up abruptly and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  “Do you have diabetes?” Harrison asked.

  “No!” I said. I knew where this was going. Word was that insulin had killed Hale.

  “Do you know anyone with diabetes?”

  “No, not a soul,” I said truthfully.

  “All right, this is what’s going to happen,” Harrison said. “Those photographs will be submitted to the Forensics Imaging team for analysis. If they determine that they were indeed doctored, then you’ll be dropped as a person of interest and we’ll be one step closer to finding the real killer.”

  Relief finally washed over me. “So, does that mean I can go now?”

  The cop opened the door and turned back to me. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “But you had better not be lying to us.”

  Chapter 13

  “Come into the back room. I think I’m in some serious hot water,” I said to Thyme as soon as I got back to the shop. Luckily, there were no customers at the time.

  Thyme’s face was filled with anxiety. “What happened with the police? I’ve been worried sick since I saw your note.”

  “I’m completely spooked, to be honest,” I said. “They had a whole bunch of photos which showed me with the victim.”

  Thyme gasped. “With Thomas Hale?”

  I nodded. “The police got some photos in the mail that show me with Thomas Hale—when he was alive, obviously. I don’t mean with me finding his body. Anyway, as you know, I’ve never seen the guy before. The day I found him lying on my front porch was the first day I had ever seen him.”

  “I wonder why someone would do that? First, the body turned up where it had no place to be, and now you’re showing up in photos where you have no place to be. It’s rather peculiar.”