bless your witch 09 - southern witching

by Amy Boyles

  Which reminded me that Richard, aka Boo, was sitting in the dungeon with Roman. I needed to pick up the pace if I was going to get them free.

  “That disc that you saw on Angelique. What do you think it was? Surely it wasn’t a non-filter spell?”

  The doctor chewed his sandwich for a moment. He slid a napkin down his mouth. “There are a couple of things it could have been. First, it could have been a silencing spell, so that she didn’t talk. The other thing it could have been was a bonding spell, binding her to the person who hired her. That’s another type of silencing spell, but it links the two people together.”

  Grandma nodded. “If you’re committing a crime with another person, it’s a good technique to use. For instance, if one partner gets caught, then the other partner is given up as well. It keeps both people honest. One person can’t get arrested without the other person getting in trouble with them.”

  “And Angelique had this?” I said.

  Spell nodded. “That’s one theory.” He smiled. “But since she’s dead, we don’t know. All bets are off when one partner dies.”

  Something about his smile set me off. “You don’t think she was acting alone.”

  He shook his head. “Probably not. Not with a mark like that. Someone else may have been pulling the strings.”

  I leaned back, trying to figure out what I needed from Spell. “You must know a lot of people who’d like to get even with Roman—all the work he did for the witch police and all that.”

  Spell shrugged. “The castle generally doesn’t keep those people here, and since I’m employed by the castle, I’m limited in whom I come in contact with. But I’ve still seen a lot. Met a lot of people.” He leaned forward. “I know their secrets, in fact.”

  Spell tapped his fingers on the table. “I don’t like to talk about them, because some folks like to keep things private, but I know things.”

  I tugged at a limp end of lettuce peeking out from under a slice of bread. “You get paid in gold coins, is that right?”

  Spell’s eyes flared for a moment. “I do. Have for years.”

  I chewed the inside of my lip. “Are you magical at all?”

  He nodded. “Some magic. Not much. I work around enough people with magic that it’s enough for me.”

  Why was it I felt like talking to this guy was a dead end? He didn’t seem to have any revulsion for Roman or his family, or harbor any grievances. Of course, this was only taking him at face value, but my gut was telling me that Spell was a dead end—which was probably what Pearbottom thought as well, which was why the good doctor was sitting at a table eating a sandwich instead of sweating in an interrogation room.

  Well, what the heck? “We found one of your gold coins at the scene of the crime.”

  Spell stopped chewing. “What?”

  I nodded. “We found your coins laced with binding magic. They’d been paid out to you from the treasury here. Pearbottom knows all about it. He should be talking to you anytime now.”

  Either I was incredibly stupid or stretching out on a limb so strong it wouldn’t break under my weight.

  Spell paused, then nodded. “Hmm. So that’s where they went.”

  My ears perked at that. Grandma elbowed me. “What do you mean?” I said.

  The doctor rubbed his forehead. “About a week ago a few of my coins went missing. They were stolen. And it seems now I know what happened to them. They were used to pay off Angelique Kiln.”

  CHAPTER 17

  I corralled Grandma in the hallway after we left Dr. Spell. “Do you think he was telling the truth?”

  Grandma shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t wearing my truth-o-meter on my head, but he seemed to be.”

  Truth-o-meter? “Is that an actual device?”

  Grandma tapped a finger to her temple. “It’s just the old noggin, Dylan. The old noggin.” She snapped her fingers and punched a fist in her open palm. “So. Are we off to talk to Dyon?”

  I nodded. “Yep. Let’s go find her.”

  I was able to get the location of Dyon’s room from Em, who paused in kissing her dog long enough to tell me. Grandma and I climbed the stairs to the second floor and cut across to another wing.

  I knocked on the door. It swung open, and Dyon answered. “Come in,” she said. “I was just making a cup of tea. Would you like some?”

  “Unless it’s on ice and has about a pound of sugar in it, no thanks.”

  Grandma smiled. “I’d love a cup.”

  We sat in the room that reminded me specifically of spring. It was green and gold with blue accents. Very pretty.

  I fluffed a pillow before elbowing it into the couch. “This is a nice room. I wish I had it.”

  Dyon smiled. “It’s the one I always ask for when I stay here.” She poured water from a pot into a cup and handed the saucer to Grandma. “I hope the book has helped you?”

  “Actually, that’s why we’re here. We found mention of a name that I wanted to run past you.”

  Dyon tapped a spoon against the rim of the porcelain. Her long, slim fingers curled around the cup as she lifted it to her lips. “Of course, but I don’t know that I’ll be able to help you.”

  “Then why do you have the book, my dear?” Grandma said.

  Dyon balked. She choked on a sip of tea and pounded her chest until it cleared. “It was in Angelique’s personal collection. Something she’d left before getting arrested. I kept it. I don’t know why. I should’ve given it to the police, but we have such a strange relationship with the witch police, as I’ve said before. Several times I thought I’d destroy the book, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

  “What happened to her after she was released from prison?” I said.

  Dyon crossed her legs. “She disappeared. Didn’t contact any of us. We really didn’t consider her to be a fairy anymore. Once you start using your gifts for evil, we shun you from the community. That’s how it works. So Angelique wouldn’t have contacted any of us because she wasn’t one of us. I hadn’t spoken to her in years. I magicked that book to me when I found out she had been impersonating Roman’s ex-girlfriend and was now dead.”

  Dyon exhaled. “I’m not saying my sister got what she deserved, but when you spend your life doing evil, eventually it will catch up to you. That’s how it goes. We fairies try to live in the light. My sister chose not to, and she sealed her fate by it.”

  Her shoulders hunched. “But I’m sure you understand all about that, about accepting things in life and staying on the right path. Not doing anything wrong.”

  I ran my fingers nervously through my hair. “I try to. I mean, I haven’t always been perfect. I’ve thrown myself into investigations when I shouldn’t have. I once thought Em was trying to murder me, so I accused her in front of the police.”

  Grandma folded one hand over the other. “Hmm. I wonder whose side of the family you get that from?”

  I rolled my eyes. Obviously she meant hers. “But anyway, Jonathan did ask me to stay out of this investigation.”

  Dyon’s eyes widened. “And I gave you the notebook. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to put you in an awkward position.”

  I shrugged. “It’s okay. I put myself in it, really. Though I’m trying to do better.”

  “You are?” Grandma said.

  I nodded. “I’ve told Pearbottom about some things. I’ve been doing a good job of helping.”

  Grandma sniffed. “Okay. If you say so.”

  I scoffed. “I have been.”

  She shrugged.

  I turned back to Dyon. “So what I’ve come to ask is if you have any idea who someone nicknamed Twizzler might be.”

  She grimaced and shook her head. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry I can’t help you with that. I have the book but don’t know what it means. Though I will tell you a rumor I’ve heard.”

  My ears pricked at that.

  “The rumor is that Angelique had done work for Helga dePlume over the years. Now what kind of work, I don’t know, but I know
there may have been a connection to them.”

  Which would explain the similar marks on both of us. I wondered if Jonathan had followed up with Helga and found anything out.

  We thanked Dyon for her time and headed back downstairs. “I say we sneak into Helga’s room tonight, find out what she’s hiding,” Grandma said.

  I snorted. “I’d already planned on sneaking into Dr. Spell’s room, but I think I’m going to cancel that. There’s no way Em will get us into Helga’s room. That would be a queen witch diplomatic disaster.”

  Grandma wiggled a silver ring-laden finger at me. “You’ve got a point there. Even if she is guilty, Helga may plead diplomatic immunity. You know queens tend to do that sort of thing.”

  “I say we go find out what Pearbottom knows about the mark,” I said.

  My stomach twisted at thoughts of Roman in the dungeon. I didn’t feel we were any closer to solving this crime, but maybe Jonathan Pearbottom knew something we didn’t. In fact, I prayed that he had all the answers.

  We reached Pearbottom’s office. From the other side of his door, the swirling sound of an argument filtered into my ears. A female voice, high and shrill, pierced the air.

  “He’s my nephew,” she said. “He’s innocent. Surely you know that.”

  My heart jumped to my mouth. Eliza Pearbottom stood in his office. She was Roman’s aunt and his father’s sister-in-law. The woman had already suffered through her sister and nieces dying. She didn’t need to deal with the stress of her nephew rotting in the dungeon.

  I wondered where Eliza had gone after the wedding. I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her, but clearly she had been doing some thinking.

  “You have to release him, Jonathan,” she said. “Is there any evidence against Roman?”

  “Eliza, keep your voice down. There are people out there who can hear you.”

  Her voice grew louder. “I don’t care! You’ve got two innocent men in the dungeon. Let them go.”

  I leaned my ear closer to the door and glanced around. No one was looking in our direction. They were milling about doing their own thing, which was good. I didn’t need to be discovered eavesdropping. I was pretty sure Pearbottom would snub his nose at it. Plus, it would stop him from giving me information that I badly needed to help him solve the case.

  (Imagine me smiling innocently right now.)

  “He was seen at the crime. Roman was there moments after Angelique fell. Excuse me—was pushed. What am I supposed to do? Let him go? He looks guilty. A dead ex-girlfriend appears on his wedding day and later she winds up dead seconds after he was seen with her. And you want me to let him go? I can’t do that.”

  “If you love me, you won’t do this.”

  Silence filled the air for a moment. I crossed my fingers, hoping that Pearbottom would listen to Eliza, his wife. As a matter of fact, she was his recent wife. They’d only been married a few short months. Which meant they were practically honeymooners, and if Pearbottom didn’t want the honeymoon to end, he would be wise to do what she said.

  At least that’s what I thought.

  “I can’t do it,” he said. “I wish I could. I want to. I like Roman.”

  “You have a funny way of showing it,” she snapped.

  Pearbottom continued. “He’s a great detective and an honest person. But until I have evidence to the contrary, I have to keep him.”

  The door opened, and Eliza whisked by. Long dark hair streaked behind her, blurring her image as she swiftly passed me. Eliza paused, slanted her head back. Her gaze flickered to me briefly before moving on.

  I stood in the doorway and watched as Pearbottom’s face contorted into an expression of agony. His eyebrows pinched together, his eyes glazed over and his mouth tipped into a heavy frown.

  Then he saw me.

  I didn’t think he could look any more upset, but he did. Meaning his frown got even droopier. “What do you want?” he barked.

  His words sent a jolt to my core. I swallowed a knot in the back of my throat and stepped forward. “Well, my grandmother and I were wondering if you’d had a chance to look at the mark on Angelique and talk to Helga about it?”

  Pearbottom raked his fingers down his face. “Believe it or not, Dylan, I have more important things to do than chase down every lead you offer.”

  “You do?” I said in a spunky, up-beat voice. “I thought you worked for me.”

  Pearbottom scowled.

  I waived the air dismissively. “I’m joking. I know you don’t work for me, but I was just wondering.”

  He sighed and sank into the chair. “You two come on in and shut the door behind you.”

  Grandma took the only chair in the room, leaving me standing. She glanced up at me and blinked. “What? Old people get first dibs.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Tell us about Helga.”

  “Helga admitted the mark came from her.”

  I bumped my knuckles together. A small squeal escaped my mouth. “And you haven’t arrested her? Isn’t that an admission of guilt?”

  He shook his head. My hopes sank.

  “I have a mark on the victim that goes back to Queen Witch of the North. That’s true, but the problem is, Helga said she’d given Angelique the mark years ago.”

  I threw up my hands. “Just because she said she gave it to her years ago doesn’t mean anything.”

  Pearbottom wagged a finger at me as his eyes narrowed to slits. “It does because when Angelique was arrested years ago, the mark was documented at that time. Both women admitted their relationship. But according to each of them, the job wasn’t anything serious—like murder. If Queen Witch of the North hires you to look like a person but no crime was committed and neither of you admit as much—as was the case here—then there’s nothing we can do.”

  Grandma ran her fingers through her silver hair. “The man’s got a point. What can you do? A mark that’s accounted for and a queen witch who hasn’t committed a crime.”

  I found the longest straw I could and grasped ahold of it. “What if she stole the money from Dr. Spell and used it on Angelique?”

  Pearbottom rubbed his temples. Oh, how I was annoying him. I could just tell.

  He sighed and eased back into his chair. The detective regarded me for several moments before saying, “I know you want to free Roman. You’re not the only one, but I don’t have any evidence against her. I have no reason to think that Helga dePlume had any motivation to want Roman thrown in prison. He never arrested her for anything. Fact of the matter is, there’s no reason to think Angelique Kiln was working with anyone but herself. Roman and Angelique had an argument—even you heard their loud voices. Something snapped inside Roman, and he pushed her. It’s as simple as that. Open-and-shut.”

  I wedged my back into the wall and sank to the floor until my rear end hit the cold, hard bottom. “I just know he didn’t do it. I know that none of the facts points to this person or that person, but I know Roman didn’t kill her. Why is this so hard?”

  Pearbottom shrugged. “Why would Angelique be working with anyone else? If she was working for someone, their plan hadn’t been blown. Angelique still looked like Sheila. There was no reason to think that her cover was about to go.”

  My eyes widened. “Are you sure about that? It was documented that her and Roman didn’t get married in Vegas. That was being uncovered right at that moment. Plus, it wasn’t Sheila. The woman said she came in from Fairyland. Sheila wouldn’t have known anything about Fairyland. She was human. Roman kept that part of his relationship quiet.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Still, even if she did know about Fairyland, Angelique wasn’t a witch and wouldn’t have any way of getting there. None. So yes, by the time she and Roman argued, her whole Sheila charade was getting blown to bits. Maybe whoever hired Angelique was angry that it wasn’t working.”

  Pearbottom sucked air through his teeth. “Roman never arrested Helga. What would she have had against him?”

  I rocked my head from side to side, thinking
it through. The cold, hard wall was less than comfortable, to say the least. Hey, if you ever wanted to torture someone in Castle Witch, just make them lean against a stone wall for a while. They should be weeping like a baby after a few hours.

  Realization hit me like a rubber band popping in my face. “Helga doesn’t have anything against Roman, but she would have something against me. And getting to me through him isn’t something I wouldn’t put past her.”

  Grandma frowned. “Is that right? Don’t you mean you wouldn’t put it past her to hurt Roman in order to get to you?”

  I shrugged. “Same thing.”

  Even though it probably wasn’t.

  Pearbottom laced his fingers together and tucked them behind his head. “Interesting. So you think whoever is behind Angelique—her appearance as Sheila Ross—may have been trying to get back at you for something and not Roman.”

  Grandma smacked her lips. “Interesting theory. I like it. I think it’s a new angle you should explore, Jonathan. This opens up the suspect list immensely.”

  “Opens it up almost too much.” He shook his head. “I don’t buy it. I don’t think they were going after you. I think someone was going after Roman and not you.”

  I pushed myself off the floor and stretched over, working out some tension in my lower back. When I righted myself, I noticed Pearbottom had already gone back to pouring over paperwork.

  “So I guess there’s nothing else to do here?” I said.

  Pearbottom nodded. “I don’t think there’s anything else. I’ll keep you posted on the investigation, but unless something breaks open—meaning the killer comes in and confesses—I don’t see any other way about this other than to charge Roman.”

  My stomach churned into great big knots that pushed up to the top of my throat. I closed my eyes and dropped my head into my hands. “He didn’t do it,” I whimpered. “Surely your gut tells you that.”

  Pearbottom pressed his lips together. “My gut tells me that one plus one equals two. That’s what is.”

  I inhaled a shallow breath. “I guess our time is done here.”

  I curled my hand around Grandma’s arm and proceeded to leave. Sunlight was shrinking. It streaked the inside of the castle in blues and purples. It would’ve been beautiful if my hopes hadn’t burst into dust motes the size of, well, dust.