In the air. I knew of only one someone who took flight. “I take it you’ve seen Archie this morning.”
“He swooped by a little while ago.”
“He’s got a big beak.”
“I know. Isn’t it great? Now tell me what you found out.”
“I’d rather tell you in person. It’s a long story. And oh! I have more news, too.” I’d tell her about Ve and Andreus in person so I could see her face.
“What kind of news? Good news? Bad news?”
“Humorous yet horrifying.”
“You’ve intrigued me. When can you stop by?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I’m meeting Cherise in a little bit. Maybe afterward?”
“I’ll be here. Humorous and horrifying, you say? More humorous or more horrifying?”
I laughed. “I can’t pick.”
“So intrigued,” she said, hanging up.
Missy perked up at the sound of someone on the front porch and took off running. I thought it was the mailman until I heard a knock. I closed my laptop and went to see who it was and hoped I didn’t scare them away with my attire.
As I passed through the front room, the space Ve and I used to meet with clients, I threw a glance toward the painting above the fireplace. The image of the magic wand had captivated me since the day I moved in. The colors, the glimmer, the illusion of movement . . . The whimsical piece represented the business perfectly. Represented Wishcrafters perfectly.
I slid the lock on the front door, nudged Missy aside, and opened the door. No one was outside. I was about to close the door when I looked down.
A single daisy lay on the front porch. But then I noticed another on the front step, and another on the walkway.
Nick.
My heart fluttered, and I smiled at Missy. “What’s he up to?”
She turned in a circle, barking.
I soaked in the warmth of the spring morning as I followed the trail, scooping daisies as I went. The grass was still damp from last night’s rain, and my feet were soaked by the time the daisy path led me through the side gate. As I looked down at the bits of grass stuck to my bare feet, I smiled, because the heebie-jeebie feeling from stepping in Raina’s blood was finally gone.
When I looked up again, I stopped short when I saw Nick sitting on the porch swing.
“What is this?” I asked, holding up my bouquet.
“Can’t a guy surprise his girl with flowers once in a while?”
I was a puddle of mush and gush as I picked up the rest of the daisies and climbed the steps. “I have no objections to that.”
“I like your shirt,” he said, coming toward me.
“I like your flowers.” I leaned up and kissed him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I motioned for him to follow me in. “You’re early. Coffee?”
He nodded. “Sure.”
Missy followed me inside and went to her doggy bed. Tilda was still sitting by her bowl. I set the armful of daisies on the counter and took a mug out of the cabinet. Since he liked his coffee black, I filled the mug to the tippy top and slid it across the counter to him.
He was dressed in his uniform of khakis and a polo shirt, and I noticed he needed a haircut—the ends were starting to curl, which I loved but he didn’t care for. It didn’t look like he’d slept too well, considering the bags under his eyes.
No rest for the weary.
“How was your morning?” he asked. “Productive?”
“Oh, you know.” Grabbing a vase, I filled it halfway, then stuck the flowers in it. “I broke Andreus Woodshall’s nose. That was kind of productive.”
He slowly lowered the mug. “You what?”
“Broke his nose. Blammo,” I said, borrowing Harper’s word. I reenacted slamming the heel of my hand into his nose. “Your self-defense moves came in handy. Thanks.”
His jaw jutted. “Why were self-defense moves necessary?”
I fussed with the flowers, arranging them just so. “Long story short, I thought he was breaking in, but he was . . .”
One of Nick’s eyebrows rose in question as he took a sip of coffee.
“Spending the night. With Ve. Here. Upstairs.” I shuddered and wondered how long it would take before I could talk about it without a shiver running through me.
He inhaled sharply and starting coughing. Pounding his chest, he said, “You’re kidding.”
“Oh, how I wish I were. Andreus is probably regretting the decision as well, considering the state of his nose.”
“Blammo, eh?”
I leaned against the counter. “Exactly.”
“Truthfully, I wish I could have seen that.”
“It was something,” I said, remembering. “But, other than that, my searches came up as duds. Except . . . does the name Felix mean anything to you?”
He shook his head. “Should it?”
“I don’t know. It’s bugging me. I feel like I’ve seen it recently, but I can’t quite place it.”
“It’ll come.”
I hoped so.
He said, “I called over to the Pixie Cottage to see if Scott was still registered. He is, and Harmony confirmed that he was in his room. Now’s a good time to head over before he pulls another disappearing act.”
I glanced at Missy. Had it been a coincidence that she had been enamored of him all week? There were specially trained dogs who could sniff out fire accelerants, medical ailments, bombs . . . Was she somehow able to sniff out Crafters?
Glancing up at me, she blinked, then started cleaning her paws.
Hmm.
“I just need to change and run a brush through my hair.” I set my mug in the sink and remembered I had a favor to ask of him. “Oh, if you don’t mind, I dropped some files behind the filing cabinet in the office, and I can’t get the thing to budge. Can you pretty please get them for me?”
“Ah, the real reason you keep me around.”
I kissed his cheek and headed up the stairs. “If the muscle fits.”
When I came back down a few minutes later, Nick was still in the office and Tilda was still sitting by her bowl.
Giving in, I dumped out her food, took out a can of tuna, and scooped it into her bowl. I set it on the floor, and she stared at it.
“Brat,” I said to her.
Her tail swished.
“Hey, Darcy, come take a look at this,” Nick said.
“Did you find a giant dust bunny?” I asked. “Because I can’t be held responsibl—” I broke off as I stepped into the office. “What’s that?”
“You tell me.”
He’d moved the filing cabinet aside, revealing a rectangular door in the wall. “A hidey-hole.”
I pushed on the corner, and it popped open. An empty file was inside, labeled in Ve’s handwriting.
DODMTrust.
“One of your clients?” Nick asked.
“Not that I know of.”
“Strange.”
“Intriguing,” I countered, echoing what Harper had said earlier.
Seemed Ve was keeping lots of secrets.
Chapter Twenty-six
Nick and I were about to head out to find Scott when he found us first, knocking on the side door as I slipped on my flip-flops.
As I pulled open the door, Missy raced out, barking and dancing around his feet. “This is a surprise,” I said, wondering why he was here.
The strap of his messenger bag crisscrossed his body. “As I was checking out, Harmony let it slip that Nick had called. I figured I’d stop by before I headed out of town. Can I come in?”
I moved aside to let him pass. He shook hands with Nick, who said, “I don’t think leaving town is a good idea.”
“Yeah, well, in my line of work you don’t get much of a say when t
he boss calls. I’ve got to catch a flight, and I’m already running late.”
“What line of work is that?” I asked. “Because there’s no Scott Abramson listed on the TV show’s Web site.”
He smiled as he reached into his bag and pulled out what looked like a billfold. “You’re good. How’d you find out my name?”
“Mrs. Pennywhistle is a good friend of mine,” I said, deliberately choosing my words to let him know that I knew all about him. “She helped me put the pieces together of what happened last night.”
Confusion swept over his features. “But she died last January . . .”
“Scott, you, of all people, should be aware that around here things are not always as they appear. She’s now a mouse familiar living at Bewitching Boutique.”
Nodding, he glanced at Nick. “I didn’t realize you were a Crafter.”
“Long story,” he said, “and right now I’m more curious about hearing yours, and I was serious about not leaving town.”
Scott’s eyes suddenly hardened, and he didn’t look like a happy-go-lucky mountain climber anymore. Not in the least.
Adrenaline surged as I wondered if I’d somehow misread him. Did he have motive for killing Raina? And, oh my God, I’d set him up with Evan! If Scott turned out to be a killer, I was never going to hear the end of it.
Nick, too, had noticed the change in Scott’s demeanor. His hand inched closer to the gun at his waist.
“And I was serious about not being able to say no to the boss.” Scott flipped open the billfold, revealing a badge. “The FBI frowns upon insubordination from its agents.”
The FBI? Whoa. I didn’t see that one coming.
“Look,” Scott said, “I know you have a ton of questions, but I really don’t have time right now, so I have to keep this short.”
Nick was still staring at the badge.
“Jane Abramson was my mother. My grandparents adopted me when I was a newborn to save her reputation,” he said, “but I’ve always known the truth. They never hid it from me. I was five when she vanished, and my family always suspected her disappearance was related to the heist, but there was no way to prove it. The local police were more interested in trying to find the diamonds than her.”
“Why did your family suspect the heist was involved?” Nick asked.
“Because,” Scott said, “she was the tipster who turned in Sebastian Woodshall.”
Holy plot twist! “What?!”
“My mom was a hairdresser who did makeup on the side. She was hired by one of her clients to do a full makeup job on him for a Halloween party, or so she was told.”
“Sebastian,” I speculated.
“Yes. She was paid a lot of money and actually had fun doing the job.” He glanced at his watch, frowned. “Then she saw the photos of the man who stole the diamonds and put two and two together. She couldn’t in good conscious not report him. You know what happened next. But then she became fearful because she kept seeing Eleta around the village, watching her. Although the world did not know who the tipster was, Eleta sure did, because there were only four people who knew what Sebastian looked like that day. Him. My mom. Eleta. And Phillip, the accomplice. It was a female tipster. Eleta knew it wasn’t her. . . . Then the night of the Harvest Festival, my mom disappeared.”
Poor Jane.
Scott said, “My family begged the police to search Eleta’s house, but they had no good cause for a warrant. In their eyes, there was nothing that tied the cases together.”
“Were they told that your mom was the tipster?” I asked. That would certainly tie the cases together.
“No. My grandparents were too fearful of retribution. Against them. Against me. But I grew up knowing, and I knew the Craft rules about spells and death. It was only a matter of time before I could get into that house. I joined the FBI, worked my way onto Boston’s field office’s Jewelry and Gemstone team and waited for a break in the case. Which came when Eleta Tavistock died. I convinced my director to let me set up an undercover investigation here. I concocted a story about a home show to avoid suspicion of why I was so interested in the Tavistock house, and came to the village to watch and wait and bide my time.”
“It was a good ruse,” I said. “I bought it hook, line, and sinker.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I thought it was pretty ingenious.”
“Noelle’s going to be devastated that there’s no actual home show,” I said.
Scott hitched the strap of his bag. “Dorothy will be worse.”
True.
I said, “I don’t suppose you were watching the Tavistock house the day Raina was killed.”
“No. I’ve been paying close attention to the investigation, and instincts tell me the diamonds are involved in her death. Someone looking for them, most likely. Caught in the act.”
“Yeah, but who?” Nick asked.
“I don’t know,” Scott said. “But it has to be someone close to Andreus.”
I shifted foot to foot. “Why?”
“Because of the charm,” Scott said.
And it has to be someone who knows Andreus’s mother.
Glinda’s words haunted me.
Someone close to Andreus’s family in some way, shape, or form was connected to this crime. Someone who hated Andreus enough to frame him. But who? The only person unaccounted for at this point was the accomplice to the heist. “Scott, do you know who Sebastian’s accomplice was?”
“I only know what you do. A man named Phillip. My mother overheard Sebastian having a phone conversation with him, talking about where to park because a street had been closed due to a water main break. At the time, she thought nothing of it. It wasn’t until later that she realized the water main break was near the museum.”
Phillip. Who in the world was he? If I could find him, then it might crack the case wide open. But how?
Then I thought of the funeral photo from the Toil. A close associate of Sebastian’s would have been there. If I could get Ve, Cherise, Godfrey, Mrs. P, and Pepe together to identify everyone in the shot, then something—no, someone—might jump out.
“I knew your family were Wishcrafters, Darcy, and used you when I wished for the cookies,” Scott was saying. “I wanted to know for certain that you could grant wishes. And I used you again when I wished where my mother was.”
Despite him saying he’d used me, his wishes had to have gone through the Elder’s filtering system—because though we were all clueless about his identity, she would have known he was a Vaporcrafter. Since she approved the wishes immediately, his wishes had to have been pure of heart.
“I’m sorry,” he continued. “But I couldn’t just go in the Tavistock house and start sawing walls and tearing up floors. I needed to know where she was exactly. Get in, get out, find closure so my mother could finally rest in peace. I was sloppy last night, not noticing you come up behind me. But once I started tearing into that wall, I was a man on a mission. A tank could have rolled through that house and I wouldn’t have noticed.”
“Does the FBI know about your magic?” Nick asked.
They couldn’t possibly. Not with the Craft rules about that kind of thing.
“No,” Scott confirmed. “They just think I’m extremely good at getting out of bad situations. I’ve got to go.” He pushed a business card toward me. “In case you need to get in touch in the next day or so.”
“You’re coming back?” I asked.
“I’m still technically on the case, Darcy. The FBI is very interested in where those diamonds are.”
“But . . . Circe,” I said. Those diamonds were safer hidden.
“I’ll cross that bridge if I get to it. I’ll also need to make arrangements for my mother to be buried alongside my grandparents once her body is positively identified. And”—he rolled his eyes—“I have a date. I keep my promises.” As he headed f
or the door, he bent and rubbed Missy’s head. “Be a good girl while I’m gone.”
She barked.
When the door closed behind him, I looked at Nick and said, “What now?”
Nick dragged a hand down his face. “The hell if I know.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
An hour later, Nick was off to reinterview Noelle Quinlan now that he knew of her romantic connection to Kent, and I was with Cherise on our way to the house on Maypole Lane. We were discussing the mysterious Phillip, and she was shaking her head.
“There’s just no one around with that name. I’d know. I know everything.”
She did, which was why I worried about locating the mystery man. But then I wondered if she knew about Ve and Mr. Creepy. I didn’t want to ask.
I just hoped that if word did get out that it wouldn’t hurt Ve’s election chances. I wasn’t sure how the affair would sit with voters but fortunately Ve still had the Craft on her side. Stopping that development would outweigh the impact of a somewhat-scandalous romantic entanglement.
Ve still hadn’t come back to the house by the time I had left with Cherise, and I wondered where she’d gone off to and felt slightly guilty thinking that she may have accompanied Andreus to the hospital to have his nose tended to. It had been instinct, pure and simple, to hit him, but still.
I looked across the green toward the Upala tent. It was being manned by Lazarus, Andreus’s son. There was no sign of Mr. Creepy at all.
My guilt-o-meter jumped up a notch.
Suddenly, above the chatter from the rock and mineral show, I heard my named being shouted. “Darcy!”
I turned and found Starla jogging toward me, a manila folder in her hand. “The Toil pictures. Don’t lose them. Don’t bend them. Don’t spill anything on them. I had to sign my soul away to take them from the archives.”
“Can I draw little mustaches on the faces?” I teased.
“That’s not even funny,” she said, then cracked a smile. “Okay, a little funny. But promise me you’ll return them the way you got them.”
“Promise.” I crossed my heart, then opened the folder and gasped. “They’re in color!”
“Originals always are.”
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