by Amy Boyles
“I have noticed.”
The seats filled up, and time started to wear on. I glanced at my watch. It was fifteen minutes past “go time.” The groom stood by the preacher, smiling and waiting. He was a good-looking young man with a crop of sandy hair and brown eyes—Dave Tingle.
Tingle was an odd last name, but who was I to judge?
Finally the musical procession of the bridal party started up. The audience rose and turned. One of the best men led off. I noted that he didn’t have a bridesmaid with him. All the others were paired with an escort except for him.
The party marched up to the front.
Sera leaned over. “Where’s the witch?”
I scanned the cluster of maids. “I don’t see her. Think they kicked her out?”
Sera shrugged. “I’ve heard of crazier things.”
The music stopped, and the preacher began the ceremony. I zoned out until he got to the best part. “If anyone knows reasons why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Don’t ask me why that was my favorite part. I just thought it was ripe with tension. Not that I actually wanted someone to jump in and mess up a wedding. I certainly didn’t, but you know, it could liven things up a bit.
Apparently I didn’t have to worry about that. A gurgling sound came from behind. I turned.
Lilly stood behind us. Her mouth opened and shut as if she wanted to say something but she couldn’t. She pitched forward.
I moved to break her fall, but I wasn’t fast enough.
Lilly hit the ground face-first.
A woman from the congregation screamed. “Her back! Something’s in her back!”
I glanced down at Lilly, and sure enough, sticking out of her back was that sewing needle that had caused all the trouble earlier in the day. The four inch instrument was plunged directly into her skin.
People jumped from their seats and surrounded us. I slid my fingers down Lilly’s neck to search for a pulse.
Rose Wood pushed through the crowd. “Is she okay?”
I pulled my fingers away and shook my head. “No. Lilly's not okay. She’s dead.”
FOUR
Needless to say, the wedding was put on hold.
“Wow,” Reid said, “can you believe someone killed her?”
Me, my sisters and my grandmothers were sitting in the tent that had been erected for the reception. Most of attendees were as well. Roman had asked people to stay out of his way as he brought in a team of investigators to comb through the crime scene.
Reid pulled out a book from her purse and started reading it. The edges were frayed, making it appear like a well-worn borrow from the public library.
“What are you reading?” I said.
Reid inserted a thumb to hold her place. “This book on ghosts. It’s pretty interesting. Talks about the different kinds of hauntings and apparitions. How to communicate with spirits, that kind of thing.”
“This place is old,” Sera said, “but I hope it’s not so old that we see a ghost. And I certainly hope that Lilly doesn’t decide to come back. That would scare the heck right out of me.”
I pulled my legs up onto the chair and hugged my arms over my knees. “I can’t believe anyone killed her. Think it had to do with the fact that she’s a witch?”
Grandma poked the air with authority. “Dylan, since the earliest of times people have been jealous of our power.”
“She didn’t have any,” Sera said.
No one said anything.
Sera’s gaze volleyed between us. “Do y’all think she had magic?”
I shrugged. “A couple of hours ago one of the bridesmaids accused Lilly of spelling a zit on her chin. Apparently, Lilly had some sort of lotion she was going to use to erase it. At least that’s the impression I had.”
Milly thumbed her nose. “Anyone can make a zit appear on your face. They could have you wipe your face with a cloth drenched in pork chop grease. That’ll give you a zit every time.”
I shook my head. “That’s not going to make a blemish show up immediately, though.”
“Unless there was magic involved.” Milly ran her fingers down her cane. The glossy sheen reflected the lights that had been sprinkled throughout the tent.
Reid pulled her burgundy curls from her face. “That’s the million-dollar question. Was she an actual witch or wasn’t she?”
I shrugged. “Why do we even care? Maybe Lilly fell back on the needle. Maybe the whole thing was an accident.”
Everyone at the table shot me dark looks. “Okay, so it wasn’t an accident.”
Roman’s voice drifted up behind me. “It wasn’t at all.”
I turned around and saw my boyfriend hovering over my chair. A worry line stitched across his forehead, and his lips were set in a hard line.
“Lilly Grand was murdered,” he said. “She didn’t accidentally fall back onto the needle. Someone stuck it in her back. From what it looks like, it appears her heart was pierced, killing her.”
“Whoa,” I said. “That’s some needle. I mean, it was larger than most, but to be able to do that…?”
Roman nodded. “It’s a strange case.”
My hopes that this would be cleared up quickly sank fast and deep. I flattened the worry lines etching themselves into my forehead. “I was hoping you weren’t going to say that. Do you have a list of suspects?”
Roman shook his head. “No suspects yet. But I’ve got a line of people to question, starting with who was the last person to see that needle?”
I bit down on my lip as I put the pieces together. The last person I knew of who had the needle in her possession was—
Grandma wiggled her fingers at Roman. “I had it last.”
Roman gave a curt nod. “Then I need to speak with you. Can you come with me, Hazel?”
Grandma rose.
This was weird. Roman would normally never take my grandmother away for questioning. He would’ve done it right there, with all of us. I didn’t like the way this looked.
I placed a hand on his arm. “Wait a minute. Can’t you talk to her here, with us?”
Roman sighed. Darkness shrouded his green eyes. He looked troubled. “I need to speak with your grandmother alone, Dylan.”
“But why?”
His words came out clipped. “Because this is a murder investigation.”
I scoffed. “I know that, but you can’t possibly think she did it.”
He started to pull Grandma away. “I have to treat everyone the same. No matter who.”
“But she’ll start talking about winged monkeys. You may need one of us to keep her on track.”
Roman cocked his head back. “Dylan, for your own good, leave this alone. Stay out of it. I promise I’ll be gentle on your grandmother. But right now I need you to lay low.”
I furrowed my brow. “Lay low? What are you talking about? You’re escorting my grandmother to some dark room where you’ll whittle her secrets from her, and you’re telling me to lay low?”
Roman nodded. “Yes, I am.”
I fisted my hands to my hips. “Why?”
Roman leaned over and whispered, “Because I’ve got several folks saying they saw you with the needle only minutes before Lilly wound up dead.”
My heart jackhammered against my chest.
"What are you talking about?" I said.
Roman brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. He offered a sad smile and said, “Exactly what I said. I was tipped off that someone saw you with the needle."
My hackles shot to the ceiling. "Tipped off? How can you have been tipped off? I wasn't the last person with that needle. It wasn't me." I was aware that the entire room was beginning to crane their necks in my direction.
Roman curled his fingers around my arm and leaned over. "How about we go discuss this in private?"
"That sounds perfect."
He led me out of the tent and toward the house. A small alcove had been cut out beside one of the doors. Roman led me to
it and kept his back to the wall. I imagine so that he could keep an eye out. Make sure no one was listening who wasn't supposed to be listening.
"Dylan, you know I don't believe it. But I have to look into it.”
I pressed my palms to my cheeks. My skin was hot. "I understand that you have to follow up on leads. But I'm not a lead. Someone is throwing me under the bus. Where did you hear this from?"
Roman pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “This is what I found."
He unfolded the sheet and let me read it. On the paper was written the cryptic message:
Dylan Apel had the needle right before Lilly died.
I smacked my hand to my forehead. "Oh, come on. Anybody could've written this. I'm sure the killer wrote it. Someone doesn't like me, and they didn't like Lilly. Do you know why?”
Roman quirked eyebrow. "Because you’re witches?"
I snapped my fingers. ”Absolutely! That's exactly right.” I lowered my voice in case someone got close enough to hear. After all, I wasn’t supposed to be talking about being a witch. That was a cardinal sin.
“Someone doesn't like us because we're witches. So you've got to figure out who.”
Roman rested his spine on the bricks. "How would you like me to do that? Would you prefer I just start asking people who doesn't like witches, and who does? I'm pretty sure that's not going to get me very far."
I flashed him a brilliant smile. "You don’t know how far it’ll get you until you try." I held out my hand for the sheet of paper. “Let me see that.”
Roman closed his palm and smirked. “You know I can’t let you see this.”
“Because it’s evidence?”
He nodded. “Yes. Also, I’m afraid you’ll destroy it.”
“Roman, what would ever give you the idea that I would destroy such a thing?”
He ran a finger along my jaw. I shivered. “Darlin’, I know you too well.”
I stuck my tongue out at him. “Fine. I’ll leave and let you take your crappy little piece of evidence that really isn’t evidence. I’ll go do my own thing.”
I turned to walk away from him. He called out, “Just don’t get yourself into any trouble.”
I didn’t bother to justify a response. I was tempted to ask what would make him think I’d get into trouble, but then I remembered that generally every time someone wound up murdered and I was nearby, I usually got myself into trouble—generally with the witch police.
Anyway, I might jump headfirst into hot water from time to time, but I had never murdered anybody. Not like whoever left that stupid note wanted Roman to think.
Still, the fact that someone left the message troubled me. Maybe a family discussion would take some of the burden from my shoulders.
I walked around for a while, letting my mind settle. I figured that gave Roman enough time to question my grandmother. Of course, talking to her was like opening a writhing can of worms. It was absolutely scary, and you never knew which worm, or idea in her case, would fall out first.
By the time I found them, my family, including Grandma, had moved from the tent back into the bedroom my sisters and I were sharing in the wedding mansion. Or should I now call it the death mansion?
Maybe that was a bit too gruesome.
“How’d it go with Roman?” I said to Grandma.
She wiggled her fingers at me. “Oh, fine. I explained that I’d locked the needle away in my room before the murder. Someone must’ve stolen it from there. Several people saw me walking with it in my hand. I told him who.”
“Sounds pretty cut-and-dried.”
Sera and Reid were sitting on the bed. Sera was scrolling through her phone, and Reid was reading that ghost book. The grandmas were playing a game of checkers at a small table. Except their checkers weren’t black and white circles. They were little black and white dragons that moved on their own and blasted tiny fires at their opponents.
Grandma touched a dragon’s head and then an empty square. “Move here.”
The black dragon hopped over a white one, turned around and roasted it with a little blaze.
I cracked my knuckles. “That’s creepy and oh so cool.”
“Thank you,” Grandma said. “This lets me get out my frustration.”
Not sure what that meant.
“Where’d you get it?” I said.
Hazel fingered her silver hair. “Dylan, you never know what we have up our sleeves. This is an antique, created by my grandmother.”
I frowned. “Why haven’t you showed it to us before?”
Grandma blinked at me. “Because quite frankly I didn’t know if you were mature enough to deal with it.”
Reid shot me a look from her station on the bed. “Yeah, Dylan, didn’t you know we’re not mature enough to handle tiny fire-breathing dragons?”
I crossed to the bed and sat on the edge. I toed off my shoes. “Well, when you’re finished playing with your tiny fire-breathing dragons, I need your help.”
Milly tightened her hands on her cane. “What do you need, toots?”
I fell back on the bed, hitting Sera’s feet. “I don’t think that’s going to be comfortable,” she said.
“As long as your feet don’t smell, I’ll be fine.” I sniffed. Everything seemed well.
“What’s wrong in Dylan’s world?” Grandma said lightly. A tad too airy if you want my opinion.
Not that you do, but I’ll give it anyway.
I shifted onto my elbows and shot her a dirty look. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re making fun of me?”
Grandma threw me her most innocent expression—it was full of blinking eyes and a rounded mouth. “I’m just saying that there seems to be something wrong in your world.”
“Yeah, because that happens about every two seconds,” Reid said.
My jaw dropped. “If y’all don’t want to listen to what’s going on—and this is very serious—then I’ll find someone who does.”
Milly cackled. “Who are you gonna find that cares more about you than your own family?”
I crossed my arms and pouted my bottom lip out. “I don’t know. But I will look very hard for them.”
Sera ran her fingers through her hair. “I suggest that if we don’t want to torture ourselves anymore, we listen to what Dylan has to say.”
“Thank you for your support, Sera.”
Actually I wasn’t entirely sure that was support, but at this point I would take whatever I could get.
I inhaled a deep breath, tightened my core and said, “Y’all, someone is trying to frame me for the murder of Lilly Grand. Someone slipped a sheet of paper to Roman that said I was the last person to be seen with that needle.”
I waited, expecting my family to tear into a ferocious rage. I expected Grandma to stand up and proclaim that of course I was innocent and we would get to the bottom of this. I expected Sera to fist her hand into her palm and declare that no one would blame her sister for murder and get away with it.
But instead, everyone stared blankly at me.
I threw up my hands. “Well, are y’all going to say something? Aren’t you furious that someone would give Roman a piece of paper like that?”
Reid dismissed me with a wave. “Nah. That’s what I’d expect. I mean, Lilly was going around saying she was a witch. I’m not surprised something like this happened.”
I glanced at Sera. “Are you surprised?”
She shrugged. “It seems like you and trouble go hand in hand. Almost like you’re best friends.”
I glanced at my grandmothers, hoping they would at least offer some support. “Well? What about you? Are you shocked?”
Milly snorted. “Toots, you get in more trouble than a chicken sitting outside of a coop egging on a fox to come and eat her.”
My brain’s wiring zapped and frayed as I tried to wrap my head around what she’d said. “That’s a horrible analogy. I am nothing like that.”
Grandma gave me a sympathetic smile. Her watery blue eyes looked to be brimming
with tears. “Dylan, let me explain something to you. There are some people who have a knack for trouble. That person is you. The fact that Roman was handed a slip of paper placing blame on you for Lilly's murder is no surprise to me. This is one of the first rules of witchery.”
Witchery? Was that even a word?
“There are ways to discover who did this. Has Roman dusted the slip of paper for fingerprints?” Grandma said.
I shrugged. “No clue.”
“It doesn’t matter, because he won’t find any.”
Then why are we discussing it?
Grandma continued. “A person smart enough to leave a note like that wouldn’t risk having any fingerprints on it. You know what we need?”
“A sense of direction?” Reid said.
We all stared blankly at her.
She shrugged. “What? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with asking for a sense of direction. If I took any of you to find someplace in the middle of the night, I’m pretty sure we’d get lost.”
“Nothing to do with what we’re talking about,” I said. “Grandma, please finish.”
Milly hefted herself from her seat and leaned on her cane. “Your grandmother is right. This calls for magic. Any witch worth her weight in platinum wouldn’t have left anything on that piece of paper worth finding. I think we need spies.”
“Spies?” I said. “What are you even talking about?”
Grandma and Milly exchanged a look. Grandma swept her hand over the checkerboard full of dragons. “Spies. These little fellows will do just the trick.”
“What are you talking about?” I said.
Milly’s knuckles whitened as she tightened her grip on the cane. “Dylan, someone has framed you for murder. And these little fellas will help us find out who.”
FIVE
“Tiny dragon spies? I’m pretty sure this tops anything y’all have ever come up with in terms of harebrained ideas,” Reid said. “You’d be better off trying to find a ghost and getting them to spy for you.”
Sera stopped scrolling on her phone and placed it on the table beside the bed. “I agree with Reid. Using tiny dragons is really the craziest of crazies. Grandmas, I think you’ve topped yourselves.”