by Tegan Maher
“I liked him better when he was sick,” Iggy grumbled.
It was odd, but I was about to move on—until I caught sight of his hands. Dark dirt caked below each nail and lined the creases. I nudged Hank. “I think Vlad may have been the one uprooting that greenhouse bed.”
He squinted, then stiffened. “I think you’re right.” He shot me a quick grin. “Nice job spotting that, by the way.”
I beamed. “I’ve got eyes like a hawk.”
“And a voice like one, too,” Iggy added.
I shot him a flat look, and he broke into cackles.
We strode up to the table and I lifted a brow. “My, what dirty hands you have, Vlad.” I frowned at myself. Since when had I gotten so creepy?
He paled, then glanced down at his hands, turning them over and over again. “Uh…”
“We know it was you who ransacked the plants in the greenhouse—why?”
Vlad’s eyes widened as he looked from me to Hank. “Where—how did you know about—I—”
Herbert, sitting on a nearby chaise, lowered his newspaper with its magically moving images. “What’s this about ransacking, now?”
Bogdana, beside him, blinked her dark eyes. “Jes. Vat ees dees, Vlad? Why you haf filthy hands?” She closed her book and sat straighter.
Vlad cast a wild look at Hank and me, then grew still and let his shoulders droop. “Fine.” He tossed the stick onto the faded table and threw up his dirty hands. “I pulled up the plants. So stake me!”
“Vhat?” Bogdana rushed to her brother’s side, her long black skirts swishing. She patted at his cheeks. “But you vent out een zat storm een your eel state? You could haf collapsed and died!”
He swatted her hands away. “I felt like I was dying already.” He dropped his eyes to the pool table.
I frowned. “The plants were… medicine then?”
He scoffed. “Something like that.”
Hank’s brother Tristan (one of my least favorites) slid up to the table. “Wait a minute, you’ve got a stash, man? Why didn’t you share?”
Hank, beside me, stiffened. “The plants—they were hallucinogenic.”
My jaw dropped. That would make a lot of sense.
Vlad cast his sister a sheepish grin.
She planted her hands on her hips. “Vhat ees dees? Old Boris was growing drugs out een da greenhouse? Uh!” She let out a little cry of indignation and turned to her husband, who still sat on the couch. “I had no idea za old coot vas growing such tings out dere. Did you?”
Herbert shook his head, brows raised.
“Huh!” She stamped her foot. “How scandalous! And vhy did he not share vith us?”
One of Hank’s sisters-in-law clamped her hands down over her toddler’s ears and steered her toward the other end of the room after shooting us all stern looks.
Bogdana spun on her brother. “But Boris shared vith you? How ees this?”
Vlad grimaced. “Shared is a bit generous.”
The nosy cousins sidled up. “Yes, do tell.”
“Can they smell drama?” Iggy eyed the woman with the mole above her lip. She leaned closer, eating it all up.
I considered it. Maybe.
Vlad let out a heavy sigh. “Ugh. You know what, the old coot’s dead anyway, and it’s about time the truth came out.” He turned to his sister. “I used to pay Boris for the weed. A few years ago, I went out to the greenhouse with him and we both got stoned. He confessed everything to me.”
Bogdana frowned. “Everyting? Vhat tings?”
Vlad cast a heavy look at the eager cousins, then turned back to his sister. “He’s your real father. Apparently, he and our dear late mother had an affair and—you’re the result of it.”
Bogdana blanched and pressed a hand to her chest. “I know not vether to faint or hurl.” She threw an arm out, and her husband rushed to her side and supported her by it.
I gasped as pieces fell into place for me.
I turned to Hank and tugged on his sleeve till he looked down at me. “B—for Bogdana. Those letters weren’t to Boris’s mistress—but to his daughter.”
Hank’s eyes lit up. “You’re right.”
Vlad shrugged. “Boris was charging me an extortionate amount for his plants and so…” He rolled his eyes. “So I threatened to tell everyone the truth if he didn’t give them to me for free. Ever since then, he’s loaded me up at Bruma with a year’s supply.” He curled his lip. “Really a win-win for everyone if you think about it.”
“Except for the dead guy you were blackmailing,” Iggy added helpfully.
Vlad shifted on his feet and looked slightly ill. “Yes, well… there’s that.” He shrugged. “But since he’s dead, I figured no one would miss the weeds, so I went out to the greenhouse to collect what was mine anyway.”
“Huh.” Hank stepped forward. “That’s why you were sick, wasn’t it? It was withdrawal.”
Vlad pulled a kerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his pale, sweaty face.
Hank stepped closer, and I grinned—go get ’em, Hank!
“You were going through withdrawal because Boris cut you off—he wasn’t happy with the deal anymore for some reason.” Hank lowered his voice. “Is that why you killed him?”
“W-what?” Vlad spluttered and looked around at the small group that had now gathered around him and the billiards table. “No! Of course not—I didn’t kill the old gardener.”
“So you braved a snowstorm while at death’s door to get out to the greenhouse for what… fun?” I lifted a brow.
Vlad let out a heavy sigh. “For fern’s sake! Fine! Yes, I was going through withdrawal, okay? That silty old man cut me off. Said he didn’t have much time left, or some nonsense like that, and thought it was time to ‘tell the truth.’” His throat bobbed. “He also said he was doing it for my own good—that if I wasn’t careful, I’d end up dying early like him.”
“Early?!” Bogdana spat. “Vhat vas he, like ninety-five?”
“My dear,” Herbert cooed, still half-supporting his wife. “Boris was only sixty-eight.”
She swayed on her feet. “Vhat horrible, horrible genes I haf inherited.”
I narrowed my eyes at Vlad. “Is that why you tricked him into taking your place as Santa? You saw your opportunity to kill him out of anger.”
“Psh.” Vlad waved a hand. “First of all, I was much too ill to kill anyone. I barely managed to stagger my way out to the greenhouse. Second, I told him he had to play Santa because it was his fault I was so ill in the first place. It’s not like I forced him, but the old bugger owed me that much. And third, what good would killing him have done? He was my supplier—I needed him alive to keep growing my weeds.”
I folded my arms. “But he cut you off.”
Vlad shrugged. “Ah, I’d have just borrowed money from my dear sister and paid him an amount he couldn’t refuse.”
“You mean from your dear sister and her husband,” Herbert grumbled.
“Hold on. Just a moment, now.” The nosy cousin lifted a slim finger. “If Bogdana is not a proper Hennigar by blood—then who does Hennigar Castle belong to?”
Meeting in the Library
Meeting in the Library
Bogdana frowned. “Eef eet ees true, zat I am za daughter of a badly aged gardener…”
The cousin plastered on a humorless smile. “Which is easy enough to test with a patrimony spell, granted we have something of the deceased’s?”
“How about his whole body, stuffed in a barrel?” Iggy peeked out of his lantern.
The sister-in-law who’d removed her toddler gasped from the other side of the library. “There are children in here.”
“Uh.” Iggy pointed a little flame hand toward the fireplace. “Not sure you’re gonna win mother of the year for letting your kids hang out in a crime scene, so keep it to yourself.”
She flushed pink, grabbed her little girl, and stormed off. I shot Iggy a look.
“You’re not winning me any favors around here.�
�
Iggy shot me a flat look. “What’s that one’s name?”
“Er….” I bit my lip. “Betsy? Hm. Becky?”
“Exactly. You’re not winning yourself any favors either, so let’s move on.”
I rolled my eyes.
Bogdana gripped her husband’s arm tighter, so that her knuckles grew white and blotchy. “Zen dat vould mean za estate vould go to Vlad?”
She turned to her brother, who shook his head. “Nah. You know my father disinherited me for my terrible life choices—it’s why you inherited this place when he and Mother died. I still wouldn’t get it.”
The cousin fluttered her lashes. “Which, I suppose, means that as next of kin, Hennigar Castle is now ours.”
Crash!
We all jumped and spun toward the door where Duscha stood, trembling hands empty, a tray of shattered mugs and hot cocoa spilled at her feet. “Vhat—vhat deed you say?”
“Oh my.” The cousin raised a slim brow and leaned closer to her husband, though she didn’t bother to lower her voice. “We’ll be making some staffing changes immediately.”
Duscha’s face paled.
“Sorry, old girl.” Herbert shrugged. “Seems we’re being turned out of the castle. Apparently, Boris was Bogdana’s real father and now—”
“But—” Duscha’s chin quivered. “But vhere vill I go?”
“We’re the new owners, and that’s none of our concern.” The cousin cast the cook a simpering smile. “Now do clean that up. Wouldn’t want it staining the rug.”
Duscha’s expression darkened, but she drew her wand from her apron and dipped down to clean up the mess.
I blinked, my head swimming. Who’d have thought there could be so much drama at an isolated old castle in the middle of nowhere? I frowned at Vlad, something he’d said tugging at my mind. “Vlad—you said Boris cut you off because he didn’t think he had much time left and wanted to start ‘telling the truth’?”
Vlad nodded, then tossed his dark hair out of his eyes.
I let out a shaky breath and glanced up at Hank. “Then, I’m sorry to say, but Bogdana and Herbert stood to gain the most by silencing the gardener.”
“Come again?” Bogdana’s eyes widened on me, and I swallowed against the lump in my throat.
It was never easy accusing your husband’s family of murder, but… “Maybe Vlad let slip the secret, or Bogdana or Herbert saw the letters to B and realized what they meant.” I shrugged. “Either way, they’d have known that the estate would go to next of kin. The cousins. Which makes for a pretty big motive for keeping Boris quiet.”
Hank shook his head. “And since you might be covering for each other, you don’t have alibis.”
Bogdana clutched at the high neck of her blouse and turned to her husband. “Ve do look rather guilty, don’t ve?”
Herbert looked like he might be ill.
Hank called his brother Cas over with a wave. The tall men advanced on Bogdana and Herbert.
“I’m sorry to have to do this, but we’ll need your wands and to keep you restrained until the snow clears and we can contact the authorities.”
Bogdana’s chin quivered. “But I’m innocent!” She scrunched up her face and tipped her head from side to side. “Well, not entirely, but of this crime certainly!” She laced her fingers together and pleaded with Hank and Cas.
Caught!
Caught!
I crossed my arms and shifted on my feet as Hank and Cas advanced on Bogdana and Herbert, their aunt and uncle, ready to magically bind them until the police could be summoned. I knew all the evidence pointed to them, but still… something felt off to me. I couldn’t picture either of them killing Boris.
Hank’s mom, Edith, wandered into the room blinking her glassy eyes. They widened as she took in the scene.
“My goodness!” She pressed a hand to her heart. “What’s going on here?”
“Wow.” Iggy blazed a little brighter. “I’ve never seen her look so awake.”
I bit my cheek to keep from grinning. Now was so not the time.
Her brother, Herbert, held his palms up. “Your sons are arresting my wife and me for murdering the gardener.” He sniffed. “Which we categorically didn’t do.”
“Hm.” Edith covered a yawn with her hand. “This is all too much for me. I’m going to go lie down.” She spun around and wandered back toward her room.
Cas frowned after her. “Didn’t she just wake up from a nap?”
He and Hank exchanged flat looks.
Iggy cackled. “Real firecracker, that one.”
A rattling noise made me glance to my right. Duscha stood, wand in her trembling hand, and magically guided the floating tray of broken mugs back toward the kitchen. Something about the tension in her hiked shoulders and the shakiness in her hands made me give Duscha another thought.
If she’d known Bogdana was Boris’s daughter and that Vlad had been cut out of the will, she might have feared for her job if the cousins took over—and rightly so. She and Boris had dated, on and off, for years and worked together for decades. If Boris let the secret slip to Vlad, it was easy to imagine he might have told Bogdana at some point.
I bit my lip as I watched her slink toward the kitchen. And even if he hadn’t, she’d found his letters. She’d told Hank and me that she thought they were addressed to a mistress—but if she’d had the chance to read through them, she probably had a good idea of what the true relationship was.
Boris might have told her of his plans to reveal the truth. If she’d killed him, she might have been out in the greenhouse this morning burning the letters to destroy the evidence of the relationship with his daughter.
Her long skirts swished around her calves. The hem was soaked—just like it’d been this morning—from being out in the snow! Had Duscha made the tracks I’d seen earlier in the day? She might have realized Vlad and Boris were switching places and seen her chance. She could have trekked out to the greenhouse, clipped some poisonous leaves, and made it back in time to slip it onto the cookies we’d left out for Santa.
I gasped as I replayed the events of the morning. Duscha had knocked the cookie out of the child’s hand—she’d known, before everyone else, that the cookie had been poisoned. I remembered her wiping her hands on her apron and leaving behind a green stain. I’d assumed it was frosting, but maybe it was from her fingers, stained from cutting the poisonous leaves!
“Wait!”
Dozens of sets of eyes turned toward me. Hank and Cas paused in their arrest of Herbert and Bogdana.
“Imogen?” Hank blinked at me. “What is it?”
Iggy poked his fiery head out of the lantern. “Speak, girl, speak!”
I shot him a look and he cackled. I raised my hand, pulled energy from the snowstorm whistling past the windows, and used the force of it to lock the door in front of Duscha. It latched with a loud click, and she spun to face me, her eyes wild, all escape cut off.
“It was you.” I swallowed against my tight throat. “You killed Boris, didn’t you?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
“You were afraid for your job.” I nodded and kept my eyes locked on Duscha’s. “You knew that if Boris revealed the truth, that Bogdana was his daughter, the castle would go to her cousins. And who knew if they’d keep you on?”
She wrung her hands in her apron, her wand still clutched in one. I glanced around the room—dozens of children played or snoozed, passed out in their parents’ laps. I hoped Duscha wouldn’t do anything to further endanger lives.
“You knew those letters were addressed to Bogdana, not some mistress. You burned them after poisoning Boris, to destroy the evidence.” I pulled my lips to the side. “Only you didn’t realize that Vlad also knew.”
Duscha’s lip quivered and her eyes darted around the suddenly quiet room.
Bogdana raised her dark brows. “Ees dees true?”
Duscha sucked in a raspy breath, then buried her face in her apron and s
obbed. Cas and Hank rushed forward, and Hank summoned her wand from her hand into his own. She didn’t put up a fight.
“I deed eet!” Duscha sobbed.
Hank and I exchanged surprised looks. Wow. I’d actually been right.
She lowered her apron, face red and pained. “Boris had a heart condition. He said he vas going to die soon anyvay! Why deed he haf to ruin eet for all of us?” She shook her head. “I am an old voman. Vhere vould I go eef za new owners kicked me out, huh? Dees has been my home for over forty-seven years! Vhere vould I leeve and vork?”
Cas and Hank stood on either side of her.
Hank’s throat bobbed. “While I can certainly understand your fears, you’ve taken a life. We must bind you for the police.”
She nodded, still sobbing, and let Hank and Cas escort her by the elbow out the door. My heart pounded in my chest. We’d found the killer—and she’d confessed!
Bogdana shook her head. “Vhat a vaste.” She threw up her ring covered hands. “She has taken a life for no reason.”
The cousin raised her thin brows. “I say good riddance. We’ll have to bring in our own staff.” She cast Bogdana a simpering smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll allow you to stay here until the snow melts.”
My stomach clenched. What a witchy woman!
“Oh, how generous of you.” Iggy rolled his eyes.
Bogdana pouted and sniffled at her husband. “Oh, Herbie, vhere vill ve go? Thees ees the only home I’ve ever known!”
Vlad scoffed. “Dear sister, it’s time to see the world! There’s so much out there.”
Bodgana clung to her husband’s side. “Jes? You tink so?” She tipped her head side to side, though her mouth stayed pulled into a wide grimace. “Jes, I suppose I haf alvays vanted to see za human lands.” She looked up at Herbert. “Maybe now ees za time.”
He patted her hand. “That’s it. Way to stay positive.”
She nodded, gaze distant, and seemed more resolute. “Jes. Let us go to Las Vegas.” Her face split into a huge grin. “I vish to see all za flashing lights!”